


All Children Grow Up

by cakeisnotpie



Series: Hookand Wendy OUAT [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a grown up Wendy Darling gets talked into returning to Neverland, she finds Captain Hook is not the same man she remembers ... he's still dangerous, but in a much different way. Back in Storybrooke, Killian Jones only wants to exact his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, but he didn't bargain on running into a completely modern Wendy or count on the distraction she would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> All changes to Wendy Darling's character are what I think she would be like once she grew up. If, as a 12-year-old girl, she is willing to go on an adventure, I can't imagine she'd settle easily into a gilded cage when she's almost 20. Especially when there's a hottie like Killian Jones to content with.
> 
> This chapter bounces back and forth between Storybrooke and Neverland. Enjoy!
> 
> Serious thanks go to my muse, thehottiewhisperer aka Rebecca. Her obsession with Killian Jones and her encouragement made me start this story. Love you, babe!

**STORYBROOKE -- Today**

It was all so different, paler somehow, like a faded watercolor landscape. Even the air smelled wrong, although the tang of the sea was a comfort to him. He was so out-of-place here – wrong clothes, wrong world, just wrong – but the cold hollow in his gut that burned like ice on bare skin reminded him of why he’d come. His eyes tracked every movement of the man who had ripped out his heart from his vantage point, hidden inside an abandoned, closed up shop.  Gods, but he looked to be thriving here. Talking with Charming, one of those heroic idiots whose exploits were blown up into legends, Rumplestiltskin was clean, well-dressed, and obviously wealthy. That he should be successful, living well after all he’d done … The anger flared and his one good hand settled on the hilt of his sword, tracing the well-worn scroll work in the metal, ready to draw and quarter the bastard who’d killed Milah.

“Ms. Davies! Ms. Davies!” The children bustled down the street, herded along by a young woman, books tucked under their arms, heading for the library just one block away. “Ms. Davies, I know how to do a cartwheel. Wanna see?” The little boy promptly thrust his book into the hands of another and tried to cartwheel out into the street; he managed to get his hands on the ground, but the rest was more of a hop.

“Very nice, Jack.” Her voice was patient and kind. “Now please get out of the street before Dr. Whale’s car hits you.”

She looked nothing like he remembered; her hair was shorter, captured neatly by a silver clasp at the nape of her neck, blonde streaks catching the afternoon sun _(brown hair, loose and flowing over her back, swinging as she turned)_. She smiled as she caught another boy who was about to pinch the girl in front of him, casually tugging him back a step or two, and he got a glimpse of her face, her full lips _(lower lip caught by her teeth as she worked through a problem)._ She was in pants that fit her curves, a smart red jacket over a simple shirt, and black heels that added a couple inches to her small stature _(that damn corset laced so tight she could barely breathe)_. She looked happier than he’d ever seen her, at ease with her young charges, mothering them all in that way she had that encouraged the best in even the roughest character _(you are not what they say you are, Killian)._

The group crossed the street at the corner – she corralled them all until the light turned red – and she paused before she stepped off the curb, straightening her back and looking around, as if she could sense his eyes on her. He sank back further into the store, and the moment passed. Instead, Charming nodded to her and she gave him a friendly wave, following the students. His was surprised to see her here; he’d thought she would be in London, that her world was safe from the curse. But then life was a harsh bitch, so why wouldn’t she be stuck in this tiny town, at the whims of the likes of Rumplestiltskin?

**NEVERLAND -- then**

The shrieks were deafening as she scrabbled back from the edge of the water, looking for holds to pull herself up. Clammy hands grabbed at her legs, catching the long skirt, pulling her down. Their faces leered at her as she glanced back, sharp teeth in their open mouths, seaweed wrapped around their pale flesh. She wondered for the hundredth time what she was doing here, why she had let the boys talk her into coming back at all. If it weren’t for Michael’s crazy scheme, and John’s so very logical argument in favor of it, she’d be at University right now, sitting in one of Dr. DeMance’s boring lectures. Which she swore she’d appreciate in the future instead of complain about them _if_ she got out of this alive.

She’d almost reached the top when she felt fingers on her ankle, a tight grip that she couldn’t shake, and her hands lost purchase on the gravelly surface. She tried to dig in, but there was nothing to hold on to but skittering rock that broke in her hand. Then she was sliding backwards as more hands caught her, slipping towards the brackish pool and the hungry mermaids below.

“Here!” The voice came from above. “Grab this.” A rope slithered down, and she wrapped her hands around it as she felt teeth sink into her calf; she kicked at the woman as the rope began to pull her up, freeing her from the monsters’ clutches. Human hands caught her sleeves, then her arms and brought her safely over the edge. She huddled in her wet clothes, trembling all over, the terror of the close call washing over her.

“Can you run?” A voice asked, and she looked up to see intensely blue eyes staring down at her.

“W-w-what?” She managed to get out between her shivering lips.

 “Their screams have stirred up the tigers and lions. They’ll come to finish off whatever is left of you when the mermaids get done.” A roar sounded from not far away. “So … can you run or do we leave you here?”

“I can run.” Drawing herself up, Wendy Darling bundled up her wet skirts, unheeding of the men around her. Startled birds flew out of nearby trees, and she turned to see the others already disappearing, except for one darkly handsome man in a black coat. With a growing sense of dread, she took in the sword at his side and the glint of the sun off the silver hook where his right hand should be. “And most certainly, I can run faster than the likes of you, Captain Hook.” She darted off in a different direction, determined not to go from the frying pan into the fire.

“What the hell?” She heard him say as she disappeared into the trees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy is determined not to let the damnably sexy Killian bother her because, after all, she is almost 20 years old and has a plan for her life.

**NEVERLAND – then**

“Are you insane or do you just want to die?” Hook peeled off his wet jacket. He’d started a fire first, trying to warm the small bolt hole of a cave; the space was packed with supplies, boxes and crates stacked against the far wall. “Anyone with half-a-brain wouldn’t run right into the path of a tiger.”

“I didn’t very well know that, did I?” She snapped back, twisting her hair to wring out some of the water; her skin was covered with goose bumps, and she shivered as temperatures dropped outside. “I’ll rather take my chances with the lions.”

“Ah, my reputation precedes me, I see.” He gave her a mock bow, hand on his red vest, hook extended. “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, milady. I think I would have remembered such a lovely face.” Sarcasm dripped off his words, and he certainly wasn’t looking at her face, his eyes roving where the wet dress clung to her breasts. Funny, but she didn’t remember his eyes being that particular shade of blue, or how young he was. He’d seemed so much scarier when she was 12 and he’d pushed her out on that plank over the water.

“The notorious Captain Hook. Famous pirate and scourge of the sea. Unable to defeat one small boy.” She saw the verbal dart hit home, his eyes darkening at the mention of Peter. Then he tilted his head and looked, really looked at her, taking in her features, her cornflower blue eyes, saw the girl she’d been, and comprehension dawned.

“Wendy?” She stepped away as his hand reached for her; he gave a rueful smile and dropped it. “Wendy. All grown up. You’re what? 17? You should be home, safely married with babies of your own. Wasn’t that the plan?”

“I am almost 20,” she declared, “and I’m going to be a teacher.”

“Oh, yes. Almost 20. That makes a big difference.” He sat on a crate and pulled off a boot, shaking it out before setting it down. The smile that had been so menacing seven years ago was more sardonic now, mocking and not nearly as frightening. “Well, you may as well make yourself comfortable. There are more dangerous things than lions in the dark of Neverland. Or don’t you remember?” Bare-footed, he pulled a blanket out of a box and shook it out.

“I don’t remember the mermaids being that vicious. Nasty and unpleasant, yes. But they were going to eat me.”  They had tried to drown her before, but Peter had said it was just a trick. The things that attacked her today were fearsome beasts, and the aching bite on her leg reminded her of the fact.

“Oh, but now you’re an adult, Almost 20 Wendy,” he said with a laugh, holding the blanket out to her with his hook. The smile broadened as she snatched it. “Neverland is a much more treacherous isle for grown-ups. This is no country for old men … or women. Best get out of that dress, love. The dark brings the cold, and we don’t want you to get sick, now do we?”

“Turn around.” Wendy knew he was right, and if she had one major character flaw, it was that she was infinitely practical, or so she’d been told.  By any number of people in her life, including her parents and her last beau. Damning with faint praise, indeed.

“Sorry, but you’ve mistaken me for one of your young gentlemen suitors. I’m a pirate, dear. I do what I want.” He went back to lounging on the nearest box, resting on his elbows with one knee bent and the other leg extended. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in taking Peter’s leavings.”

That was the cruel Hook that Wendy remembered; the words hurt as they sliced through her. “I am not Peter’s leavings. Peter can go hang himself, preferably right next to you.” She began to undo the small pearl buttons that ran down the front of her bodice, damned if she was going to let Hook stop her from getting warm. As her cold fingers fumbled, she could feel the heat of his gaze on her, interested, then growing warmer as each button slid out of its loop. When she reached her waist, she glanced up; one edge of his lips was turned up in a maddeningly sexy half-smile, as if he could see right through her bravado.

“Angry with Peter? Imagine my surprise that the little bastard didn’t follow through.”  Leaning over to the next crate, he sorted through it and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “Ah, this should help warm us up.”

The fire began to heat the space as she started to struggle out of her dress; the wet cotton clung to her, making her wiggle and shimmy to get it off, but finally it pooled at her feet. She picked it up and draped it over a crate to dry, leaving her wearing nothing but corset and chemise. As she turned, she saw Hook; he simply sat there, bottle unopened in his hand, staring at her. Warmth blossomed in her stomach, fluttering up to her chest, raising a flush on her cheeks, traveling down to the private place between her legs, and she caught her lower lip with her teeth as his blue eyes narrowed.

“How do you breathe in that thing?” His voice was husky, lower, as he asked the question, and she suddenly realized just how intimate the cave was. The corset pressed her breasts up and framed a tiny waist above her far-too generous hips that she usually hid beneath voluminous skirts.  She should try to hide herself, but she was frozen in place, caught by his gaze.

“A lady always has a tiny waist and does not gulp down air like a horse.” It was her mother’s voice that came out of her mouth, another admonition about behavior that seemed to flow effortlessly for her, but not for Wendy. No, she was too much of a tomboy, her taste for adventure whetted here on this very island.

Hook uncorked the bottle and took a swig; standing up, he closed the distance between them, scooped the blanket with his hook, and wrapped it around her as she shivered. “Get warm. We’ll get back to the ship in the morning.” His hand settled on her waist, and the moment stretched between them; he leaned in, and she let him kiss her, unable to deny herself the experience.

His lips were feather-light and warm, a tentative touch that brushed and retreated and then returned again, easing onto her lips in a caress that she felt all the way down to her cold toes.  Breaking away, he paused to see her face; then he kissed her again, and this one seared her mouth, adding kindling to the spark in her stomach. When his tongue traced her lower lip, she gasped in surprise; her lips parted, and he took advantage, dipping in to brush along her teeth and touch her own tongue before he dropped his hand and stepped back.

“Oh.” Touching her lips with her fingers to feel the burn he left behind, Wendy wondered just what was happening, why her traitorous body was reacting this way to a man who tried to kill her once upon a time ago. “You almost made me walk the plank.” Her confusion found its way into her voice.

“You attacked me, if I remember correctly. We pirates don’t take that sort of thing kindly. In my reckoning, we’re even on that point, since you left me without a ship and at the mercy of the sea.” He stroked the side of her face, pushing back drying tendrils of her hair. “You’re warm.”  Pressing his palm against her forehead, he checked her eyes. “You feel hot.” With ruthless efficiency, he caught the blanket and slip, pulling it up and looking at her legs; she struggled against the arm looped around her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “What is it?”

“Damn.” The cool metal brushed the broken skin on her calf. “Poison. Their bite is deadly.”

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Storybrooke, Henry Mills knows the true story of Captain Hook and decides to play matchmaker. 
> 
> In Neverland, things aren't going well for Wendy. What she wants, more than anything, is just to go home. It's too bad her only ticket out of there is a certain pirate ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that Thomas and Michael are still relatively young or in their early teens. In J. M. Barrie's story, Michael is about 5-years-old which would make him 12-years-old at this point. Thomas's age isn't specifically noted, but he's the middle child, so I'm going with him being about 14 or 15-years-old ... still young enough to not want to grow up. At 19, Wendy is now in college and much more mature than her brothers, being the older sister who stands in for their mother figure. This makes it easy to see why Thomas and Michael would still love Neverland -- and it would be receptive to them -- while Wendy is thinking of more grown up things.

**STORYBROOKE – Today**

The creak of the weathered wood under his foot was familiar; the smell of the sea and the cry of the gulls relaxed the tension he’d felt ever since he’d arrived in this world.  Boats were tied to their slips as he followed the brown-haired boy down the dock. The unfamiliar clothes scratched and rubbed in odd places, but the jacket was long enough to hide his sword. 

“Look, kid, just point out the boat, and I’ll pay you what I promised.” He’d met the boy in a half-abandoned park; the clothes and food had been worth the coin he’d offered, allowing him to blend in better.

“It’s right down here, near the end.” The boy led Killian to a medium-sized craft called Nana’s Dream. “I know the owner. If you’re looking for a boat, I think this one will work.”

“Henry Mills! What are you doing down here?” The voice came from behind them, but he knew immediately who it was. That was her mother tone, the one she took when she wanted people to listen to her.  Collar of his coat turned up, Killian ducked his face and turned to the side.

“Sorry, Mrs. Davies, but he just got here and I knew you would help.”  Henry shrugged, completely unabashed at the situation, a childish smile on his face.

“Who are ….” and she looked at him, blue eyes widening as she understood. “Killian?” she breathed.

With a nod of his head, he turned and gave her a mocking bow. “Milady.”

She stood astonished for a few seconds, then bent down to Henry’s level. “Henry, I want you to go home. Not Regina’s house, but Charming’s place, okay? You can’t breathe a word of this to anyone. I mean it. Not Charming or your friends … no one. If you do, I’ll have to tell your mother about that little incident with the dog, understand? Now, go.” Her gaze was stern and commanding, and Killian recognized it as the same one he often used to get his crew in line.

“Yes, Ms. Davies,” Henry grinned, but rather than leaving he turned back to Killian and tugged his sleeve until he leaned over. “She told us the real story of Captain Hook after we read Peter’s tale. Made sure we knew that growing up was worth it,” he said in a stage whisper that they both could clearly hear. With a cheery wave, he headed back up the ramp to the shore.

They looked at each other for a moment; she wore a floral skirt that ended just below her knees, bare toes peeping out of her sandals, and a silky blue blouse and sweater that did little to conceal the curve of her breasts or the tuck of her waist. But it was the same smile and eyes, the body he knew well.

“Well, you always did have good timing,” she said as she moved towards the boat, placing the bags she was carrying on the back deck. “I just picked up some Chinese food. I always order enough for a couple nights’ dinners so I don’t have to cook on busy days. Should be enough even for your appetite.” She stepped over and down onto the deck. “Are you coming?”

He had a plan, things to do here, and that did not include dinner with a memory. But even as he debated, she gave him that challenging look, nipping at her bottom lip, and he spoke before he knew what he was going to do. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Her mouth turned up at the edges. “Permission granted, Captain.”

 

**NEVERLAND – Then**

“Cap’n, that woman’s back.” Smee wrung his hands, half-afraid to speak.

“Damn it to hell,” Killian cursed, but he looked back to the gangway. Sure enough, Wendy stood on the dock, waiting, foot tapping, making her skirt swing. “I took her back to her brothers. What more can she want?”

As he made his way across the deck, he mentally cursed himself for stopping to save her at all. She’d been nothing but a thorn in his side since then. Mouthy woman … very mouthy, he thought as he remembered the feel of her lips.

“And what can I do for you, Almost 20 Wendy?” He rested his forearms on the railing, catching a rope with his hook. “Trouble in tree house paradise already?”

“I understand you have a way to leave Neverland. How much for passage back to London?” Her voice shook slightly and what might have been the tracks of tears glistened on her face. Damn. Women and tears were never a good combination. His men would line up to help her.

“Oh, that’s a pretty penny, milady. I take it you have means to pay?” He said, mocking her lightly, hoping to see her blush.

“Indeed. Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. The crew was listening; Smee had already given him an earful about the difference between galley wenches and real ladies. If he said no, they’d never let him hear the end of it. But if he let her on board, he’d end up taking her where she wanted to go. And he might go where he wanted too. He didn’t need any distractions, and her lush body was certainly that.

“Permission granted,” he said, and the words may as well have sealed his fate.

Tears were banished by the time she came to stand in front of him. “Can you take me home to London?”

“Wouldn’t a little pixie dust be easier? Just fly yourself home.” He needled her, knowing the answer already.

“It doesn’t work on adults, as you well know.” A small tremble marked her lips, but she bit it back.  “Can you or can you not?”

“Not London, I’m afraid, love.” He caught a stray tendril of hair and pushed it behind her ear. “But I can get you to a person who can.”

“Good. Then let’s sail as soon as possible. I’ll need a cabin.” She turned and walked towards the stern. He watched her hips sway, noticing the slight limp from her wound.

“There’s only one cabin on this ship and it’s mine.” She turned back at the sound of his voice. “But I’m perfectly willing to share. Of course, you can bunk with the men if you like. I’ll even give you a discount on the price.”

A flash of anger crossed her face. Good. He could make her mad. A woman who didn’t get mad didn’t have any fire in her soul. “I imagine, for the right price, you’d give up your cabin. You are, after all, a pirate, correct?”

“That would take an awful lot of gold, Wendy,” he replied, smug with the knowledge she was bluffing, and naming an outrageous number. “At least 10 doubloons.”

“Done.” She pulled her hand out of a small pocket. “10 now, and 10 when we get to port.”

He stared at the metal on his palm for a long while after she had gone into the cabin.

 

**STORYBROOKE – Today**

“Since the return of magic, I’ve looked everywhere for John and Michael, but haven’t been able to find them.” She poked her fork absently in her plate of twice cooked pork, not really hungry for the food she’d dished out. He’d eaten two platefuls already; his presence filled up the small space that served as her living area, his tall frame folded onto the bench beneath the window. She had curled up, feet tucked under her skirt, with room between them, but it didn’t help. Her body was singing with anticipation, pins and needles of need prickling her skin. To see him again, standing right by her doorstep … she’d managed to put all thoughts of him aside in her search for her brothers.

“Last I saw, they were building a new deck on the tree house. Peter had gotten possessive, they had another falling out, and Peter ran off. If the curse hadn’t happened, they’d have been thick as thieves again in a week.”  He was as adventurous at eating as he was at others things … and she didn’t need to start thinking about that with him close enough to touch … so she watched as he enjoyed finishing off the last of the egg rolls. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad to know her brothers were safe. “Can’t say I wasn’t glad to see the last of Peter, mind you.”

He stretched out his legs and drank another long pull from the beer she’d given him. It wasn’t that she’d been celibate during those years of not remembering who she was – she’d been a young single career woman after all in the modern world – but the whole time she’d dreamed of a dark haired lover and the rolling motion of the sea, waking up to hardened nipples and an insistent throbbing between her legs. Those dreams were the reason she’d bought the boat and moved in.

“Question is, why you are here? You should be safe in your own home.” He rested his arm along the back of the cushion. Henry had provided him with a snug grey henley, just a tad too small, and dark wash jeans; to anyone else, he would have looked like a young man on a date. But to Wendy, he was, and would always be, every inch a pirate.

“I found the adventure I was looking for. Snow helped me open a school for orphans of the Ogre Wars.  And then I was here, living another person’s life. It was that way for all of us, well, mostly all of us. We didn’t remember who we were or where we came from.”

His eyes narrowed and a tension rolled through him. “Mostly?”

She knew that look, the obsession that drove him, even if he never spoke of it. “August knew, but he came from outside the town and now he’s disappeared. Mr. Gold, I think. Making all his deals with everyone. And Regina. She cast the curse. Bitch took great joy in running the whole town, making us dance to her tune.” 

Killian sputtered into his beer at her words.

“What? In this world, women can cuss and drink and wear pants and dream of adventure … even have a career if we want.” She drained her beer and stood to get another; she’d seen his face go hard at Gold’s name. Offering him another bottle, she knew now why he had come, not that she had deluded herself to believe she had anything to do with it. The years in Storybrooke had changed her, made her ever more pragmatic, less a romantic. But really, that changed had started on the ill-fated trip back to the island, if she admitted it to herself.

Nothing ever changed with Killian James. His one goal in life was revenge and not even love would get in his way. She might not have known that then, but she certainly knew it now.

 

**ON THE SEAS – then**

 Within a day, she’d taken to learning every job on the ship, primarily because she was interested, but also to avoid spending time near the maddening Captain. She couldn’t decide which irritated her more; the snarky comments designed to get her angry or the hot, hooded looks he’d give her at the oddest moments – when she stood near the bow or sat reading in a chair.

What she did know was that Killian James, Hook’s real name, was much more complex than she’d ever imagined. At 12-year-old, all she’d wanted was the handsome and brash young boy who wanted only to play and have fun, the romance of never growing old, never feeling pain a potent lure. But it wasn’t real; life was growing up, taking chances, getting your heart broken. Peter would never have kissed her the way Killian did, make her skin heat up and dream of one simple touch.  

She’d found the necklace in a drawer, lovely red corals and gold beads, a woman’s piece of jewelry stored away its own protective bag. She tucked it back into its place just before he entered the cabin with a sharp knock on the door.

“There’s a storm coming. Shouldn’t be a bad one, but you never know, love. We can just ride it out.” He moved with efficiency, energized and half-excited by the changing nature of the sea.

“Give me something to do,” she asked. “I can help.”

With a raised eyebrow, he looked her over, and then grinned. “Indeed you can. Start locking down everything in here. Unless you want to lock yourself down?” Her eyes widened as she understood his implication. “No? Maybe later, love.” And with a wink, he left her there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more than one storm brewing at sea. And Wendy learns that corset strings constrict when they get wet.

AT SEA – then

“What did you think you were doing out there? People go overboard in swells that high.” He leaned against one of the posts, dripping a puddle around his feet.

“You were sliding over the side.” Wendy used her best future teacher voice, the one that her mother employed when the boys were misbehaving. “Someone had to get the rope to you.” For the second time in the last few days, her dress was soaked, this time from the waves and rain. She began unbuttoning the bodice, gazing longingly at the white nightgown she’d been using the last few nights. Not that she wanted to think too much about why a woman’s gown was on this all male pirate ship, but she’d been glad to have it.

“And I told you to stay in the cabin.” 

She was getting better at taking off a wet dress, so this time she peeled it down each arm before she rolled it off her body.  “I may be a woman, but I am not incapable of helping.”  She picked the dress up to hang; the boning in her corset was biting into her skin and the wet laces began to tighten as they dried.  Looking his way, she saw him dash his hand through his hair, drops of water running down his exposed neck.

“You are the most head-strong, reckless, unmanageable piece of baggage I have ever seen.”  He gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Well, I must say, this whole trip has been ill-fated. I’ve been wet since the first time I saw you, and if I don’t get this corset off, I think it might shatter.”  She struggled with wet cording but it only knotted and caught as she tried to untie it.

“Ah, love, you are a complete innocent, aren’t you?” He closed the few steps to where she stood and caught her chin with the flat of his hook, a curious tension in his body as he sought her gaze.  

“Will you please help me out of this torture device before I can’t breathe?” She turned and presented her back to him, catching a glimpse of them in the oval mirror as he slipped his hand to rest on her waist. His head dipped to her ear, and she shivered as his breath tickled, moving the drying curls, but she still felt the need to argue with him. “I am not innocent.  I will have you know I have had a number of beaus and even kissed a few.” Even to her, that sounded lame and childlike.

“A few sloppy kisses?” He hooked the offending laces and tugged her back until she bumped into his chest. Despite the wet clothes, she could feel his heat warming her; chest against her shoulder, his hips cradling the curve of her buttocks.  Growing up with brothers, Wendy knew enough about male bodies to know what the bulge she felt pressing against her meant.  But she had never been told about the frissons of thrill that traveled up her spine or the pooling of heat that made her heart beat faster. “I can take this off. And I can show you what it means to be wet and aching with need. But be warned. If you offer, I will take you. All of you.”

He pressed his lips to the crook of her neck, a light kiss that did damage to her nerves, firing off pulses of need.  Another followed, and another; the scruff on his face tickled her skin, and Wendy found herself thinking of her life at home. The suitors who looked for a wife and mother, someone to run their homes and parade their wealth for their peers.  Life in a box, a lovely velvet haze of money, but still a box.

He continued to brush his lips up her neck, behind her ear; with a languid motion, he licked the outer circle of her ear. “Take it off,” she whispered, decision made. 

“As you wish, milady.” With the tip of the hook, he sliced carefully down the interwoven laces, parting them easily until the corset fell free of her body, leaving nothing but the thin muslin of her shift.  Eyes on their reflection, she saw, and felt, his hand slip up and cup her breast, thumb brushing her nipple through the cloth. “Oh,” was all she managed to gasp as her body responded, puckering and hardening under his touch.

“You ready to shatter for me, Wendy?”  He turned her around in his arms, and she thought he was going to kiss her, but his head dipped down further, and he pulled the hard nipple into his mouth, arching her backwards.  Her hips wiggled, some deep seated impulse, and he groaned, and she felt the vibrations down to her toes.  Metal tip caught the edge of the material and he lifted the shift up and over her head then his mouth returned, sucking in the fullness even as his hand stroked her other breast. His wet clothes were cool against her overheated skin; she burrowed her hands into his shoulders, shivering. 

“Shouldn’t you, I mean, I think you should …” she couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence as each pull of his mouth made her body move, straining towards him. 

“Mmmm?” Eyes lifted and his mouth left her; she felt the absence in the pit of her stomach, a gasp of protest tumbling from her lips. That cocky smile was back, a dangerous glitter in his eyes. “You want something?”

“Clothes … wet and cold …”

“Ah, yes. I do believe you’re right.” He scooped her up and deposited her on the bed, stepped back and pulled his own shirt off, tossing it casually away. With an economy of movement, he shed his boots, pausing long enough to wink before he untied and slipped out of his pants, revealing his jutting manhood among a nest of dark hair. He was large and Wendy’s mouth went dry as a little sliver of fear ran through her. “Come now,” Killian said as crawled onto the bed, hand tracing a design on her thigh. “You ran into a storm to throw me a rope.  You have more courage than many men I’ve met.  Surely, you aren’t afraid?”  The bandage covering the circular bite on her leg was wet and barely hanging on; he tugged and it came off easily. Turning her leg in his hand, he brought his mouth to kiss the wound, running his tongue around the red ring of teeth marks. “Your first battle scar,” he laughed.

Doubts left her as Killian’s lips made their way up her leg, past the crook of her knee, his tongue teasing the sensitive spot there.  The higher he went the more she burned, unable to keep still, fisting her hands in the blanket.  Even the lightest touch  on her inner thigh jolted into her;  he pushed her legs apart, his dark head dipping to the most private of places, fingers parting the lips there, breath tingling as it brushed over her.

“You aren’t …” She breathed surprise. Lifting his head, his blue eyes met hers.

“I do want I want, remember. And I want to taste you” and he brought his tongue to the rosy nub, stroking her then sucking it lightly.

Wendy’s world narrowed to the pleasure that roared through her; nothing existed except the feeling of Killian’s mouth. She moaned, just getting used to the intimate touch, when his tongue ran further down, circling her before he dipped inside. Arching upwards, she cried out, muscles clenching as he continued, waves of ecstasy driving her to an edge; she held back, half-afraid of falling over that precipice, but Killian’s mouth was relentless. She had no choice but to let go, tremors racking her as she experienced her first orgasm, quaking her to her very core.

“Shall I always keep you wet and shattered now?” he chuckled as he moved up her body,  dropping light kisses on her belly button and her breasts until he gazed at her flushed face. When the head of his cock nudged at her, her eyes flew open. Easing in, he kissed her as he filled her, pausing as he felt the barrier. “Hold on,” he murmured and surged the rest of the way in one thrust; she bucked at the quick pain, and Killian swallowed her cry with his mouth, waiting until he felt her relax around him. When he began to move, slowly at first, only twinges remained for her, quickly replaced by the ebb and flow of him, like the rocking of the waves, each thrust pushing her back up, higher than before. She began to move with him lifting her hips, meeting him halfway.

“So tight, so good,” he groaned, panting now, tucking the hook flat by her head, her hand tightening on his back. “Ah, Darling Wendy, come for me again.”  His fingers found her clit, teasing and rubbing as the pressure inside her coiled even tighter, her eyes glazing; with a pinch of thumb and forefinger, she rocked beneath him, losing her mind to the pleasure coursing through her.  She was aware of his final thrusts, pulling out of her, warmth against her belly, but she floated above it, only slowly coming back to her body.

“That’s my fearless Wendy,” he said with a smile. “So alive, so hot.” He chuckled as he nipped her neck. “Such a storm of your own.”

“You are not what they say you are, Killian.” She stroked a hand down the muscles of his back.

“Don’t be fooled, love,” blue eyes grew serious. “I am exactly what they say.  Ruthless and heartless, that’s me.” She could see he believed his words, and yet she knew he’d once had a heart to lose.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storybrooke Wendy knows exactly who she wants ... and why she has to let him go.

Storybrooke -- Now

“I have to go,” Killian sat his plate on the small end table and tipped back the bottle to finish off the last of the beer. He’d been here too long already; every minute he remained meant someone might see them together and make the connection. The one thing he knew for certain was that Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t hesitate to use Wendy to get to him.

“Miles to go before you sleep?” Wendy moved from behind the counter and came over to him, her hips swaying beneath the skirt which ended at her knees, leaving her calves and trim ankles uncovered, her feet bare. He barely paid attention to her words, mesmerized by the way she moved, how the silky shirt clung to the curve of her breasts, and how his own body reacted as she neared.

“Not miles, love, but there is much to be done.” He saw what she was going to do just seconds before she leaned one knee beside his hip and then the other on the opposite side of the cushion, straddling him, tugging up her skirt and settling down on his lap. Blood rushed to his groin, and he hardened as he felt her rub against him. He dragged in a breath to control himself, but the creamy whiteness of her thighs was revealed where the material bunched around her hips. He shook his head, hoping to clear the fog of desire that circled, but she tilted his chin up with her hand, and he saw her eyes, darkened with desire, looking intently at him. His hand moved of its own accord, skimming over her knee and caressing the softness of her inner thigh.

Her lips parted as she exhaled, eyes drifting half-closed. “I dream about this,” she told him, bringing her mouth down. Silken and soft, they grazed his; he hadn’t really forgotten the feel of her, only convinced himself he’d put it behind him because his body recognized hers in the most intimate of ways. Then her tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, and he squeezed his hand, thumb pushing beneath the edge of the fabric as he caught her around her waist, hook flat on the small of her back, and pulled her closer, kissing her harder. He started to take control, tongue dipping into her mouth, tasting the spices of dinner, the sweetness of the beer, but she sat back, holding his head with her hand. 

“I’m not that girl you put ashore so many years ago.” And didn’t he already know that, staring at the woman she’d become, strong and assertive, so damn sexy. He let her take his hand, let her stand up, drawing him with her. Seductive smile making promises his cock wanted her to keep, she tugged him back across the room. “I know what I want and I go after it.”

Somewhere about the time he saw her bed, some part of his brain tried to exert sanity; he had a purpose here in Storybrooke, one that was dangerous not only to him, but to anyone who helped him. No matter how much he wanted this, yearned to be inside her again, feel that tightness close around him … so caught up in the memory and the jolts of desire that ran through him, he fell backwards at her push, onto his back as she crawled on top of him, straddling him again.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, love,” he started, pushing up on his elbows. “But I really have to insist. I have to go.”

“What you have to do,” she caught the wrist of his good hand and cold metal circled around it; he heard the click as she locked the other end around a post in the headboard, “is stay right here for a bit.”

"I see you've learned a few things."  Killian rattled the metal circle, trying it for weaknesses, but it held his hand fast, secured above his head.

"I had a good teacher." Wendy shifted her hips, rubbing against his already straining cock, and his eyes went unfocused, breathing hitching with the movement.

"This is not a good idea."

Bending down, she let her hair trail over his chest as she nipped at his shoulder, quick bites followed by the moistness of her tongue.  "Nothing about you is a good idea, Killian. But that doesn't stop me from wanting you. And, as someone used to say, I do what I want.” Catching the edge of his shirt, she scrunched the material and rolled it up, baring his chest to her hands. Her fingers drew designs across his muscles, and then she dipped her head and followed behind them with her tongue; as each circle and swirl was burning into him, he lifted his head to watch her hair trailed along his skin, light brushes that made his cock jump. Her eyes met his, and she wiggled against him.

“Good god,” he muttered. She was everything he remembered, and some things he’d only dared dream about in those dark moments in the middle of the night. Then she sat up, pressing herself down more fully on his erection; he followed each movement as she unbuttoned her blouse, as it fell off of her shoulders, white bra underneath.

“Not the same as a corset. Much less constricting,” she laughed as she reached behind and unhooked it; his mouth went dry at the sight of the rosy aureoles, the pink nipples, the full curves that always fit perfectly in his hand.

“Let me touch you,” he demanded, but she only smiled at him.

“I’m the captain here.” She was tempting him, he knew, and he could stand anything but temptation, so doubts be damned, he was going to take what she so enticingly offered. She jumped when the cool metal brushed against her nipple, a gasp escaping her lips, eyes widening. Using the side of the curve, he teased them both until she was puckered and hard, her hips moving in little circles against him. 

“Well, captain, if you bend down here, I believe I can be of some service to you.”

“You are such a pirate,” she complained, but she came down onto her hands, and he greedily brought her breast to his mouth, using his tongue first, making her moan with each lick before he took her into his mouth, suckling until she was writhing on top of him. Pushing up, she fumbled with her skirt, hands shaking, finally standing up at the edge of the bed to drop it down to the floor, followed by her sensible white underwear. He growled at the sight of her naked body, flushed face, trembling hands, and his hips pushed upwards, his hard cock straining against the unfamiliar metal clasp of his pants.

“You love it,” he groaned as he felt her fingers on the button, opening and freeing him, peeling off the denim. He licked his lips as she came back to the bed; in his mind he could taste her mouth and he wanted her kiss, wanted to swallow her cries when she impaled herself on him. Then her breath ghosted across the sensitive head of his cock and he realized what she was going to do just as her tongue circled, her finger smearing the leaking pearly drops. “God, Wendy, what …” His mind went blank as her fingers gripped the base and her lips parted, gliding down his shaft, wetting him with her mouth, and then swirling with her tongue. Each pass -- down then up, pulling with her mouth, hand holding him back when he felt his climax building – was more erotic than the last. He could see the hollows of her cheeks as she sucked, and he had no words, nothing smart to say to her, as she pushed the curtain of her hair back from her face. She brought him right to the edge and then she removed her mouth with one final flick of her tongue, looking at him with her beguiling eyes.

“I wanted to taste you.”  She trailed her tongue up to his belly button, dipped in, and he had to laugh at the feeling. Surprised, her lips quirked up. “You’re ticklish? The infamous Captain Hook is ticklish!” Again, he quivered beneath her, her tongue tickled him without mercy, and his abs spasmed with the laughter. Even as the chuckles were still rolling from his throat, she held his cock steady; wet and aching, his head slipped easily into her heats and she seated herself on him, sitting upright so he penetrated deep inside her. “Killian,” she gasped. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“If you let me go, love, I can …” She was already moving, up and down, clenching around him, and she was so tight and wet that he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything except her, how good, how right she felt. Thrusting up to meet her, he pushed the pace; she rested her hands on his hips and rode him, harder and faster as moans of pleasure tumbled from her mouth. He couldn’t take anymore; jerking up, he came, shooting inside of her as she rocked into her own orgasm, contracting around him, milking him to the last drop.

“Wendy,” he murmured as she settled down onto her elbows, resting her forehead on his shoulder. He wound a lock of hair around his hook. “Wendy, love.”

“You have to go.” She rolled off of him, and he felt the loss of her heat immediately. Taking a key, she unlocked the slim manacle, and then turned her back on him to dress; rubbing his wrist, he sat up and tugged his shirt down. It took him only a few moments to pull on his pants and stand. “It’s for the best.”  

“I do have a reputation to uphold,” she turned to go. Killian caught her with his hook, pulling her back against him.

“I’ve got a job to do,” he whispered into her hair, fingers caressing her cheek. “And nothing can get in the way. Not even you.”

“I know.” She pushed away from him, and he let her go. “I’ve always know.”

_Only one light gleamed from the tiny porthole of her bedroom, and the image of her, curling up beneath the quilt they just made love on, filled his mind. Shoving it aside, he prowled the dark cabin of the luxurious sailboat, just across the harbor from the Nana’s Dream. The boat rocked, a familiar motion that should be soothing, but tonight it only reminded him of her, the woman he couldn’t have and most definitely could not love. His focus was on Rumplestiltskin, on Milah and the old hard hatred that burned inside him. She was a distraction he couldn’t afford … or maybe, if he was honest, the one thing he needed, but couldn’t have._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more coming soon. I have to keep adjusting things as new episodes of OUAT air. I really hope they don't go with the Hook/Emma chemistry because we all know what happens to Emma's love interests ..... :(


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the ship is in danger, Wendy steps up to challenge .... and Killian finds himself with his hand tied.

 

**At Sea** \-- then

 

“You’ve walked me through it seven times already. I think I know what to do.” Wendy held the wheel, enjoying the response of the ship to the smallest of movements. “I’m perfectly capable of holding her steady until we’re out of danger.”

 

“You can’t trust anything you see or hear,” he started, but she tied off the wheel and came to stand in front of him.

 

“Killian Jones. That is enough. You’ll feel quite silly when nothing happens. But it will make a nice story to tell my children, the time I tied Captain Hook up to his own mast and took control of the ship.” Her eyes sparkled, energized by the challenge before her; she put her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him. 

 

“Sirens are insidious creatures. Those two ships were completely empty of crew; they’d jumped overboard, every man,” Killian said. “They’re out here and will strike soon. We’re a rich target for them.”

 

“I’ve read the _Odyssey_.” She was close now, her mouth only a breath away from his. “Songs so beautiful, men drown trying to get to them. That’s why the crew is tied up below with ear rags. And you’re here, lashed to this mast, ordering me around.” Brushing her lips over his, she gave him a gossamer light kiss, still unsure of herself and this new blossoming of feelings she’d discovered.  Learning as she went, she was testing the waters, taking a more active role in her growing need to touch this man, but also in her life as a whole. Letting her tongue dart out, she licked his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth; the sound he made was enough encouragement for her to do it again, tongue slipping into his open lips to touch his teeth.

 

“I believe you’re part siren yourself, love,” he told her as she pulled away. “As long as we’re waiting …” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, sexy smile luring her to do more, to push out of her comfort zone. As she bent to kiss him again, he whispered a suggestion that she knew should outrage her, but the very words vibrated into her ear and sent tendrils of heat to the pit of her stomach.

 

“Like this?” Her fingers caressed his hard cock, tentative at first, but steadier as she saw him close his eyes, heard him draw in a breath. Each touch brought a different response; fingertip touches were little sighs, longer strokes grimaces and groans, and when she placed her whole palm and pressed, he spat out a curse that scorched her ears. “What if I do this?” she asked as her fingers unlaced his pants, freeing him into her hand.

 

“Hell’s bells, Wendy love,” he breathed. “Stroke me while you kiss me, and I just might let you tie me up again later for even more fun.”

 

A sense of real power poured through her as she explored; the velvety softness of the head pliable beneath her fingers, and the rigid hardness of the shaft dancing with each caress.  His hips moved and she remembered the rhythm of him inside of her, the rise and fall of the swells; she circled him, keeping time with the pulse she could feel pounding in her own heart and under the palm of her hand. She needed to kiss him, so she did, and he immediately invaded her mouth until she could feel the same wet heat of his tongue gathering between her legs. Thrusting into her hand, he strained and jerked, almost ready.

 

“Yes,” he muttered as his muscles tensed, and then he was coming, hard and fast, the warmth spreading on her hand and fingers, sticky and white. She stared, fascinated by the forbidden knowledge of men’s bodies, amazed that she could bring such a strong man to this, give him the bliss evident on his face.  Tucking him gently back into his pants, she brought her hand up, looking at the messy liquid.

 

The sound slammed into the boat like a wave, cresting over the side and roaring onto the deck. Wendy had heard any number of musical performances – her mother held a monthly salon to support young artists – but she’d never heard anything as unearthly, and beautiful, as this song. It was alive, coiling around her, tiny fingers grasping and pulling on her clothes, winding into her ears, straight to her brain. The ship slipped alongside them, seemingly empty except for three women on the deck; they looked so, normal, like ladies out for a pleasant sail, gowns suited for a fairytale world. One was all in blue with white-blonde hair piled upon her head. The middle woman was in green, fiery red hair loose around her shoulders. The last one was all in black to match her ebony hair, long braids twined together.

 

“Wendy, love,” Killian begged. “Let me go to them. So beautiful,” he pulled against the ropes, but the knots he’d told her how to tie held fast. She heard banging from below, cries as the men struggled, the song overpowering even the rags in their ears. Running across the deck, she headed for the stairs below deck.

 

“Oh, my dear, whatever are you doing?” Her mother stood in the doorway, the familiar smile on her face which meant she disapproved of her daughter’s behavior. “We have dinner with the Andersons, and you are in no fit state to go.”

 

Killian had told her sirens could project images, show men their heart’s desires; she ploughed straight on through her mother and the phantasm evaporated like smoke even as she heard the cry behind her. Turning, she saw a woman standing on the deck; dark hair whipped on the ocean breeze as she rested her hand on her sword. About her neck was a red coral necklace, one Wendy had seen before.

 

“Milah?” His voice was shaking as he stared at her. “Love?”

 

Wendy grabbed a yardarm, closing the distance, and swung, wood whistling through the empty space where the woman had been standing, leaving nothing more than dissipating fog.

 

“No!” Killian screamed. “What have you done?” His angry eyes turned, and she took a step back at the hatred aimed at her.

 

“She’s not real,” she tried to argue, but he was frantic now, driven to escape, yanking at the ropes with all of his strength.

 

“I’ll kill you, you hear? I’ll kill everyone who takes her from me.”

 

Wendy turned her back on him and ran, blowing through her mother again until she was clattering down the stairs to the gun deck. The lantern was ready and she grabbed the rod, catching it before she began to light the canons on the left side of the ship, one after another, running to keep out of the recoil as they began to fire, blasting their artillery across the expanse of water. The heavy balls ripped holes in the side of the other ship, and the echo of the roar mixed with the rending sound of wood interrupted the alluring song, changing it as the women began to scream. Back up the stairs, Wendy came onto deck in time to see the ship list to the side and begin to veer away; the women’s voices were harsh, grating, as flames darted up through their deck.

 

“Change course, head us away from here,” Killian shouted over the cacophony.  He gave her a heading as she freed the wheel and turned the ship towards safety, only sagging back against the mast when the fire receded into the distance.  Letting out the breath she’d been holding, Wendy tied off the wheel.

 

“Wendy.”

 

She didn’t want to look at him; she’d seen the hatred earlier.

 

“Wendy, love. What happened? All I remember is you, and then … the sound … it was the loveliest thing I’ve ever heard …” His confusion was evident. “The guns firing. You fired the cannons.”

 

“You don’t remember anything?” Wendy began to untie him, working the tight knots loose. As soon as he could move, he caught her and pulled her to him, kissing her.

 

“The great Captain Wendy!” he spun her around. “Siren killer!” He kissed her again, and his good spirits were contagious; all his anger was gone, replaced by passion and elation.

 

“You told me what to do,” she protested as he sat her down.

 

“We’ll break open the good stuff.  Tonight, we celebrate your first battle, darling Wendy.”

 

As he left to free the crew, Wendy stood still, rolling the woman’s name in her mind: Milah . . . and he was willing to kill anyone who harmed her. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook senses that something is rotten in Storybrooke, Wendy has a talk with Henry and does something dangerous. Oh, and puppies :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was feeling down and told thehottiewhisperer that I wanted to write something with kids, puppies, rainbows and unicorns. This is what happened. No rainbows and unicorns ... yet ;D

STORYBROOKE – Now

_He didn’t set out to stalk her. The fact that he kept crossing paths with her was purely coincidence. Really. But his instincts screamed that something was off with the whole plan, and the fact that Wendy kept appearing as he tracked down what was happening made every protective urge jump to attention._

_She strode with purpose, the boy nipping at her hills; today she had on a pair of black pants that hugged the curves of hips, slim waist evident beneath the cardigan.  He tried not to think of her, straddling him, body rising and falling with each … Shutting down that line of thought, he dragged his eyes back to Gold’s storefront where the man moved around the front room.  From his vantage point behind the small storage shed next to the town’s gazebo, he waited, but not patiently._

“But Ms. Davies, he needs our help.” Henry kept pace as Wendy walked down the sidewalk, tote bag full of paperwork bumping her leg. “I know he’s a good man, but Mr. Gold is very powerful …”

“Henry.” Wendy used her best teacher voice on the excited boy. “Let’s sit down for a minute, okay?”  She crossed the grassy area and sat her bag and purse on the white bench of the gazebo. Slipping off her heels after she took a seat, she rubbed her aching feet together, taking a deep breath before she looked at Henry.  “Your book, it’s not just stories, okay?  It’s our lives.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Henry exclaimed earnestly.

“I know that. But Killian and I, well, we need to handle this on our own.  I’m not a princess to be saved, and he’s certainly not the same as Charming. Our story is more complicated.” She bent her head down to look intently at the boy. “Ours isn’t a fairytale.”

“More of an adventure story like _Treasure Island_! You fought sirens and survived storms and mermaids and angry fairies …” Henry paused to take a breath.

“Sometimes real life is even more dangerous,” she broke in. “And I need you to let this go. Let us take care of it. You’ve got Regina and Emma, Mary Margaret and David now in your life, and you need to focus on them.”

“But … but …. You love him. And he loves you,” Henry protested. “Love can conquer everything.”

“I’m sorry, Henry, but love is not always enough.”

_They’d settled with their backs to him, close enough for him to hear every word.  It annoyed him to be compared in any way with that black hearted Long John Silver; the man had no redeeming qualities at all. And he certainly agreed with Wendy that the kid needed to ease off on the meddling.  But the conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn; what, he wondered, was in that stupid book the kid kept talking about? How like a child to believe that love could defeat a monster like Rumplestiltskin or a woman like Cora._

“True love’s kiss saved my life.” Henry was adamant.  “If you love him, you should just tell him. I know that will make things better. You do love him, don’t you?”

Wendy’s heart did a little flip, and she tamped it back down. “Henry. You don’t just ask people things like that.”

_The afternoon sun caught the highlights in her hair, and his eyes were drawn to her profile; pink lips curved up on the edges, as if she was amused by the question.  Without even realizing it, he held his breath as she spoke, not sure what answer he wanted to hear. He couldn’t afford any weakness and love, not matter what the boy thought, was nothing but a chink in his armor. It had made him weak before, cost him a hand and his heart, left him with nothing. He couldn’t … wouldn’t … let himself be that vulnerable again._

“But you do. You have to. That’s why your story is in the book.”

“Listen to me, Henry. Love isn’t always the answer. There are very valid reasons …” she began.

“You mean Milah, Mr. Gold’s ….” Henry interrupted her.

“Henry Mills.” She spoke sharply, and his eyes widened at her tone. “You cannot tell other people’s secrets. We get to decide that on our own. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Ms. Davies.” The boy's shoulders slouched, and she felt sorry for him. He truly just wanted to help.

“Things don’t always work out the way we want,” she spoke softly. “Just because you love someone doesn’t mean they return that love … or are even capable of loving at all.” She tucked his unruly hair behind his ear. “Now, you need to go to your riding lessons and learn how to be the grandson of a Prince.”  Henry’s feet dragged, but he got up to go, and she shooed him down the stairs, off in the direction of the stables.

_His heart had frozen at the mention of her name; he rubbed his sleeve over the tattoo, the constant reminder of what was taken from him. Rumplestiltskin stepped into the open door of his shop, talking to an older man, at ease in public as if nothing worried him.  So close, Killian could have hit him with a crossbow bolt, but he needed to find out exactly what was going on before he fileted the bastard; Wendy and Henry were in full view of the men, and he couldn’t risk it._

The whimper caught her attention as she stood, lost in her memories; at first she thought she’d dreamed it up, but then it was louder, coming from behind the white lattice around the bottom of the gazebo.  Slipping on her shoes and following her ears, she circled around until she saw a broken section; kneeling down, she peered under the wooden platform.

A white and brown ball of fluff cried piteously, paw caught in between two slats; beside it, two other pups mewled from a black garbage bag, side ripped open, but top still tied. Reaching in, she freed the pup and dragged it out by the scruff of its neck.  No more than a few weeks old, the puppy’s eyes were open beneath the scraggly fur; an open scratch bled sluggishly on its front leg.

“Well, who are you? Did someone abandon you here?” Wendy sat him down and reached under for the other two; she tucked them in the pockets of her sweater. The wounded puppy was wandering off, and she followed around the corner of the shed.

“Looking for this?”

He startled her; her first thought was to wonder what he was doing there. And then it struck her that he could have heard every word of the conversation with Henry.  Even the discussion about love.

“Lurking? Why am I not surprised?” She covered the momentary panic with a smart comment. “Are you following me, Killian? I’m flattered.”  The pup squirmed in his hand, wanting down; she took the ball of fur and stroked it soothingly.

“Sorry, love, but it’s just coincidence.” He shrugged, the very image of nonchalance. “Just getting the lay of the land.”

From her position she could see the street clearly, and Mr. Gold and DA Spenser were still talking. Killian was a good liar, but not that good.  “Do you want to know what they’re talking about?”

“No.” His eyes hardened as he bit out the answer. “You will not do it, Wendy. Go home. Now.”

“Excuse me, but this is dry land, and you have no authority over me, Killian Jones.” He’d pissed her off with his command. “I can help you, and I will.” She turned, but he circled her wrist with his hook, pulling her back to him.

“I won’t have you put yourself in danger for me.” For a moment, there was something there, something in his eyes, something she wanted to believe more than anything. But then it was gone, the pirate back in control. “These are ruthless people who won’t hesitate to kill you if it benefits them. People like me.”

“Not like you,” she answered, leaning in for a quick brush her lips to his. “You’ll never be mistaken for a prince, but you’re not as black-hearted as you like to pretend.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Wendy. I’ll be the first to throw you overboard if necessary. Wouldn’t be the first time either.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, Killian. You might eventually believe it.”  With that as her parting shot, she pulled free and walked back to the gazebo; two squirming pockets full of pups and one in her hand made picking up her things difficult. She balanced them all on one shoulder as she started across the street, making sure the two men could see her struggle.  The animal shelter was just a couple blocks over, and she had to pass right by them.

“Ms. Davies, it seems you have a handful there,” Mr. Gold spoke first, smiling at the antics of the puppies trying to free themselves.

“Yes, yes, I do,” she laughed.  “Can you imagine that someone abandoned these sweethearts under the gazebo? Wrapped them up in a garbage bag and left them. This little guy got hurt trying to escape.”  She held out the one in her hand.

Gold reached for the pup, examining the wound. “Nothing that a quick trip to the vet won’t fix. You’re taking them to the shelter I assume? May I help?  Mr. Spenser and I are quite finished here.”

“I’m warning you Gold. This is not over. I will have my way.”  Albert Spenser had always been an asshole, Wendy thought, and now that she knew who he had been, that only confirmed her assessment of his character. 

“We’re done, Albert.” There was finality to Gold’s statement that made the other man’s face flush red. “Here, let me carry some of your bags for you. Teachers have so many papers to grade, don’t they?”

“Are you Henry’s teacher?” Spenser asked, no, more like demanded.  A shiver of fear ran down Wendy’s spine at the thought of this man having any interest in Henry.

“Not this year. Henry’s in a different grade now.” She passed over tote bag to Mr. Gold, jostling the pup in her right pocket enough for it to make noise.  “Oh, hush now, we’re going to take care of you.” Dipping her hand around the wiggling bodies, she snuggled both up to her chin, making little noises of comfort. Spenser seemed disgusted by the display.

“We’re not finished, Gold.” He stalked to his car and drove off.

“I don’t think our district attorney likes puppies,” Wendy laughed.

“No, indeed.”  She saw the questioning look in his eye.

“I take care of my boys, Mr. Gold. No one bothers them.” Setting a slow enough pace for Gold to match with his cane, she headed down the sidewalk.

“I imagine you do, Wendy dear.”  His smile had a cold edge, toothy and wide, for a moment, just like a crocodile. Then he looked at the puppies, and his face changed became softer and more genuine. “I think I know someone who would love to give one of these charmers a good home. She doesn’t like living alone, and the library could use a mascot.”

_His heart in his throat, he watched as the woman and the man who haunted his dreams laughed together, and he could almost feel the hand in his chest, the pain of being ripped apart, the cold slice of the blade. At least now, there were threads to pull:  why was King George interested in Henry? And what was he arguing about with Rumplestiltskin? But most of all, how the hell was he going to keep Wendy safe now that Gold knew exactly who she was?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, writing this story while the episodes are still airing is turning out to be more difficult than I imagined. So, I'm just picking and choosing what to deal with. I'm completely ignoring the whole Emma/Hook vibe because 1) Emma's got plenty of love interests on the show already and 2) I don't want Killian to die, turn to wood, disappear ... :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seems that Tinkerbell still harbors a grudge against Wendy, and Killian has to throw her overboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no regrets about this chapter. Hey, after the puppies in the last one, this one had to be sexier, right? I'll admit that I've always thought Tinkerbell was a bitch, so this wasn't a stretch.

AT SEA -- then

“Now, Tink, you know you have to get bigger before I can understand you.” Killian didn’t even bother to try to look at the angry blue-green blur buzzing around his head. She annoyed him to no end, and she’d even brought three friends with her this time. One pixie was bad enough, but four? That was just asking for trouble, plus pixie dust everywhere on his ship. They’d be cleaning it out for days. He’d much rather deal with the sanctimonious full-sized fairies than pixies … and Tinkerbell was one of the worst. She’d been with Peter too long, absorbing his stubbornness and lack of control.

The sparkling settled on the railing beside the wheel, spreading a puddle of glitter as a woman appeared, no more than two feet tall. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, a green ribbon loosely tied to hold the curls away from her face. Curvy body was encased in a green dress that left little to the imagination, her breasts just on the edge of tumbling out of the tight fabric. Sitting on the railing, spike-heeled boots swinging and knees crossed, Tink gave him a salacious look from head to toe.

“Well, Captain, you are looking very fine today, I must say.” She twirled a random strand of hair around her finger as she eyed him. “Is that a new vest? You look divine in red.”

“If you don’t tell you friends to leave my crew alone, I’ll use them for target practice.” The other blurs of light were darting around the deck, in and out of lines, circling around various crew members, leaving a faint trail of that damned dust behind them. “You know I will.”

“Oh, all right.” She pouted, shiny pink lip stuck out. With a wave, the others zoomed over to an outer rail and hovered. “You are no fun. Such a grumpy man. Sexy, but grumpy.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” It never hurt to suck up to a pixie. They could be volatile on their best days, and Tink rarely ever seemed to have a good day. Unrequited longing for an adolescent boy would do that to a girl.

“I have a message for that bitch you’re giving a ride … you are giving her rides, am I right?” Tink’s look was one of undisguised hatred, and her voice turned venomous. “Only for her. Peter was very specific in his directions. ‘Tell her exactly what I say.’ ‘Don’t hurt her.’ Why she gets all the men I don’t understand.”

“There is no way I’m letting you near her. You can just tell me the message instead.” Hook was under no illusions about what Tinkerbell was capable of. He’d learned the hard way after one of his crew, high on pixie dust, tried to climb up to the crow’s nest and dive off. Fortunately, he’d only lost a couple fingers in the rigging, but it could have been much worse.

“It’s all right. I can handle her.” Wendy climbed the steps up to the quarterdeck. “I’d like to hear the message.”

A pixie’s smile can be truly terrifying when backed by malice; Tinkerbell’s look made every one of Hook’s instincts go on alert. Whatever she was about to do, it wasn’t going to be good for any of them. Catching Smee’s eye, he gave the barest on nods; the crew began to move into defensive positions, casually, watching for the first sign of trouble.

“Peter said, quote, ‘Tell Wendy that John and Michael are quite happy here and won’t be going home. Michael wants his father to know that they refuse to grow up to be like him.’ And Peter wants me to tell you that you should never come back now that you’ve gotten too old. Neverland is no place for an adult and he can’t look after you.” 

Wendy’s face was carefully neutral through Tink’s words, but Killian could see a slight tremble at the corner of her lips that betrayed the hurt she felt. “Thank you for delivering the message. You can tell Peter I will certainly not be coming back.”

“Oh, good. I thought you might be deluding yourself that our fine looking Captain might be interested in more than just a quick tumble. He’s not capable of more … and I should know.” Tink sly look cut to Killian. and he flexed his fingers along the hilt of his sword. The lying little bitch. For all of his failings, Peter would never let the pixie hurt Wendy; on that one fact, the man agreed with the boy.

“Sorry, Tink, but I think I’m a little out of your league, sizewise. Plus you’re a terrible liar,” he said.

Wendy laughed. “That will be quite enough from you. Take your jealousy and unfulfilled dreams with you when you leave. You’ve done what you came for and took your swing at me.” She stepped closer, bending over to speak directly to the pixie in a quieter voice. “He’s a man, not a boy, trust me on that one.”

With a screech, Tinkerbell launched herself forward, hand whipping out to slap Wendy’s face, a cloud of green sparkles exploding outward. Wendy couldn’t help but breathe the sweet smelling mist in as she tried to step back; she bumped into the solid expanse of Killian as she did, and he caught her in his arms, sweeping her up to carry her. He had only moments to counteract the effects of the dust; even as he strode to the edge of the deck, he could see the other pixies dive bombing the men as they tried to evade.

“Sorry about this,” was all he managed to say before he unceremoniously dumped her overboard, into the cold water of the sea. “Smee! Give us two hours and come back for us. That’s Isla Cruces off the starboard. We’ll be there.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Tinkerbell lunged for him, her face a mask of hatred, all vestiges of beauty contorted by her wrath. A rain of dust covered Killian; he dodged and lashed out with his hook, catching Tink’s arm and throwing her back onto the deck when she would have gone after Wendy. Collapsing in on herself, she grew small again, voice becoming a high-pitched buzzing, tensing to spring. The wooden bucket snapped down over her, trapping her.

“Go, Cap’n!” Smee cried, adding his weight to hold the rattling bucket down. His eyes were already watering, sneezes racking his body. “We’ll take care of them. Already dosing them with water, see?”

Hook took a few seconds to see that the crew was grounding soggy pixies, and then he pushed off the railing and dived into the water below.

ISLA CRUCES – then

“You threw me overboard.” Wendy said for the fourth time, wringing water out of her hair. “I swallowed half the ocean.”

“Water is better than pixie dust.” Hook peeled off his shirt, leaving nothing but his wet pants. Wet leather wasn’t comfortable, but he wasn’t sure how Wendy would react to complete nudity at the moment. She’d inhaled enough of the damn dust to be feeling the effects; each person reacted differently to the drug, and Wendy’s only exposure had been as a child, when it was magical and benign. Then, she could fly and felt a surge of courage to do the impossible. But as an adult, it brought a loss of inhibitions, out of control emotions. There was no telling what she was going to do … and Killian knew he wasn’t immune, either. That last attack by Tink had gotten to him. It was probably why he was unlacing his pants even as he thought better of it, brain shutting down at the sight of Wendy in her shift – again – thinking of how much he’d like to keep her that way, or, better yet, naked in his cabin, waiting for him to touch her.

“Damn it,” he exclaimed. “Listen to me. Adults react differently to the dust. For men, it tends to make us more interested in women. That’s why I had to get you off the ship. For your protection.” He was losing focus quickly, the heat of the sun adding to the internal heat that her proximity was causing.

“Oh, but I’ll be safe with you?” She put her hands on her hips, the movement pulling the thin material tighter across her breasts, enough for him to see her nipples had hardened, to notice the shortness of her breaths. “Is that why you’re, um, you’re …” she trailed off, but nodded towards him.  Glancing down, he realized he was stroking himself.

“Wendy, love,” he moaned at the feel of the leather against his cock, the pressure of the hand he couldn’t seem to stop moving. “I don’t think I can …”

She crossed the few steps to him and pulled his hand away, replacing it with her own. “I don’t know what I want. I just want,” she whispered, eyes wide with desire and a little bit of fear.

“Then let me, darling.” Catching the neckline of her shift, he untied it, loosening the gathers until he could slip it over her shoulders. Gravity pulled it the rest of the way down, with a helpful shimmy of Wendy’s hips, and she was nude before him, an angel on the brightest of afternoons, pale skin that never saw the sun beneath his weathered and tanned hand.  Pink lips parted, her bottom one slightly swollen from where she had bitten it with her teeth, and her tongue slipped out to wet them. Delicate fingers, not tying rough rope into knots on a ship, finished unlacing and pushing down his pants, freeing him for her exploration. He couldn’t touch her enough, driven to run his hand over the curve of her hips, pull her close against him, nothing but skin against skin. Heat turned to fever, and she became a basic need, like air or water or bread; hooking her hair, he lifted the wet mass off of the long white column of her neck and leaned forward to taste her, the briny tang of the sea water combined with the sweetness of the powdered magic, but mostly the unique flavor that was Wendy Darling – part innocence, part courage, all strength.

“Killian,” she breathed, wrapping one hand at the base of his neck, dropping her head and leaning back to give his mouth access to her body. The hand on his cock continued to stroke, up, down, around. “You’re so hard,” she pulled lightly and he groaned into her skin, “but so soft too.” Her thumb circled the velvety head; he bit down on her collarbone, lightly, to control the urge to pick her up and plunge himself into her. She gasped, startled, and he gave her no time to think before he caught one breast in his mouth and sucked, hard. His hand slipped between them and into the cleft between her legs, catching her clit and rubbing.  Control was fading, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself; the wetness against his fingers was like silky honey and every pull of her hand brought him that much closer to his climax. He needed to taste more than skin; he licked the rosy aureole of her breast one last time. Moving quickly, he trapped her between the hook at the small of her back and his hand under one thigh, pulling her leg up until her foot left the ground.

“Wrap your legs around me, love,” he commanded her, and she instantly responded, clasping her hands behind his neck for balance. The position spread her thighs and his cock rested in her warm wetness as he carried her to the closest tree, pushing her back up against the smooth bark. “Hold on.”  Pressing her back with hand and hook, he dropped to his knees, laying her thighs on his shoulders. Then he got what he wanted; his mouth found her sweetest spots. He tormented her with his tongue and teeth, brushing stubble against her smooth inner thigh, leaving red marks as he alternated between worrying her flushed nub and dipping his tongue as deep as he could inside her, plundering as if she was the greatest treasure ever found.

She cried out his name as she came, great wracking sobs of pleasure that no one could hear but the two of them, and he looked up at her, body stretched above him, hands clenched at her hips, one wrapped around the silver hook. Her back arched again as he watched another wave of pleasure overtake her, and he had to be inside of her, right then. Weak in the knees, her legs trembled when he put her weight on them so he could stand, but then he was lifting them again, wrapping them around his hips until her ankles crossed behind him, surging up into her with one stroke. The world spun, and he knew everything was changing with each thrust into her tight, welcoming heat; at the height of each plunge, she said his name, sometimes a choked whisper, sometimes a plea, sometimes a cry.  He thought he was answering, words tumbling from his lips, but he couldn’t make any sense of them; they might be just nonsense or maybe pure emotion given voice by the afternoon sun and pixie dust.

When he was close to the edge, he struggled but managed to pull out just before he came, painting their bodies with the pearly liquid for a long time as his release rolled through him. At some point, he knew she was murmuring words of encouragement in his ear, little drops of her voice that soothed him as the ripples finally subsided. He rested his forehead against the tree, brain still reeling from the dust, but partial sated by the amazing sex.

“We should spread our clothes out so they dry faster,” he said as he forced himself to step back, helping Wendy stand on her own feet. “We’ll be here awhile, at least a couple of hours. Takes that long for the dust to wear off. Then they’ll come back for us.” Taking his scarf, he wiped himself clean and then did the same for her.

Wendy’s eyes were slightly glazed, seeming to only half hear him, but she took a few tentative steps, growing more confident as she moved. She picked up her shift and dress and spread them over a small bush. “I feel like I could fly … or at least what I remember flying was like. Why is it different now?”

“Children believe all sorts of magic exists – the ability to fly, for example – but they haven’t yet seen the worst of the world, so they still think life is beautiful. Now we know better. Beautiful mermaids are dangerous monsters. Pixie dust made you fly; now it makes you lose control.” After he was finished laying out his clothes, he took her by the wrist and lead her into the shade of the tree; he sat and leaned his back up against it and tugged her down with him, snuggling her on his lap. “You need to stay out of the sun or that lovely white skin will burn. And trust me, there are places you do not want sunburn.” He winked at her after his eyes ran down her body.

“I should be embarrassed,” she mused, blue eyes wide, “but I’m not the least bit. I’m sure my mother would be mortified to know I sat naked as the day I was born on a pirate’s lap.” A little giggle escaped. “Wendy Darling! A lady never disrobes completely, not even for her husband. There are just some things that are not done.”

“Sounds boring as hell to me.” The mischief in her face intrigued Killian; he wanted to see more. “Nothing better than two lovers curled together after an energetic afternoon session of lovemaking.”

“You’d have to ask my Father that. He’s the one who has a mistress. That’s why we came back here, you know. John saw them together, in our parents’ bed no less, and Father yelled at him. Thomas called him a hypocrite. It was very loud and very ugly, and Mother was more upset that the neighbors might have heard than that her husband had another woman.” She was very matter of fact about the whole thing, and that was the dust’s work, Killian knew, but the story confirmed what he’d come to suspect. Two boys, with a past taste of the freedom of Neverland, would yearn for that again once they realized that grown men sometimes acted like asses, hurting those around them. And Peter would egg them on to stay with him, to never grow up and become like their father.

“Ah, Wendy. I’m sorry, love.” He said, and he meant it. He knew about loveless marriages and the consequences of them all too well. “But you don’t have to be like her. You can be Wendy, a completely different type of woman.”

“One who makes love with pirates in the afternoon and fires canons at Sirens?” She pondered the the idea.

“You can be whatever you want, love.” He stroked her cheek with his hook, and she sighed, shifting to a more comfortable position.

“I want to help children. I know I can’t save them all, but if I could save one, just one, that would be enough.” She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, and Killian realized in all of their rush, he hadn’t kissed those hypnotic lips. “Is that silly?”

“No, it’s not. Idealistic as hell, yes.” He nuzzled a kiss on her forehead and she looked up at him, the offer too tempting to pass up. The first touch was little more than a graze of their lips, then a second easy pass, settling into the kind of kisses reserved for rainy days, big beds, and all the time in the world to get to know every contour of each other’s mouth. Playful kisses on the corners, little nips of his teeth in the same place she worried her own, tips of tongues that glided inside and out. He lost track of how many there were, whether the kisses were short or long, and just let the moment be, hoping he would remember every second of it in his dreams later, after he put her ashore and she was gone, off to save the world, one child at a time.

She pulled back and put her hand on his chest, blinking at him, trying to form a coherent thought. He knew how she felt. “I feel odd.” A yawn over took her and her head slowly sagged. “So tired.”

“It’s starting to wear off.” He could feel it too, the beginnings of doubt creeping into his head.

She picked up his hand, raising it to her lips, kissing the fingers and palm, turning his arm up to run a finger over his tattoo. “All children have to grow up,” she said, “and good things come to an end. You will drop me off at a port and sail back to Neverland or somewhere else. I know that, Killian. Doesn’t mean I don’t feel what I feel.”

It wasn’t fair, he knew, that part of him was broken and could never be fixed; no matter how courageous and daring she was, or how much she wormed her way into his life, he had no heart to give anymore. Stroking her hair, he wanted to tell her not to fall in love with him, but she was strong-headed and stubborn and wouldn’t listen. And, as good of a liar as he was, he couldn’t make himself believe that he felt nothing, that she didn’t mean anything to him.

“We can’t help what we feel, darling Wendy,” he whispered, lips against her hair. She was relaxed in sleep, eyes closed as she curled against him. “But love doesn’t mean a happy ending for either of us.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy makes up her mind what she wants ... and shows Killian how much she loves to read.

STORYBROOKE -- Now

“What are you going to name him?” Belle tried to contain the rambunctious pup in her hands, but he was too excited over seeing his litter mate again, so she let him down on the floor where the two cocker spaniel mixes tumbled into each other and began to play.

“JM for my brothers John and Michael,” Wendy said, untangling claws from her long wool skirt when JM tried to catch the swing of the tasseled ends of her scarf.  The weather had taken a wintery turn; that was fall in New England. Lovely 70 degrees and sunny, and then a quick cold snap just two days later. “He’s a little scrapper just like them.”

“Chip, stop that!” Belle ordered as the puppy tried to chew the toe of Wendy’s boot. “He’s into everything, all the time. I try to keep him in the back room of the library, but he’s out and knocking over stacks of books. The children love him.” And the look in Belle’s eyes made her love for the little dog evident. “How’s the little guy’s cut healing?”

“Good. It wasn’t very serious, and if it’s okay, we can take the bandage off today.”  Wendy shouldn’t be surprised by how fast the wiggling tail and brown eyes had worked their way into her heart; she always did have a soft spot for hard luck cases. Killian Jones, case in point. She hadn’t seen him since the park, but she knew he was around, during recess, at the diner, as she graded papers at her desk.

“The doctor’s ready,” the nurse said, and Belle scooped up Chip to have his shots.

“Bring Jim when the class comes on Friday. We’ll let them play together and I’ll do a story with dogs. The kids will love it.”

Wendy nodded. “I know the perfect one. I’ll bring the book to the diner tomorrow night.  Ruby won’t mind shop talk as long as we leave enough time to dish on men. I’m looking forward to our girls’ nights out.”

Just a few days had passed since Killian had shown back up in her life, but already changes were happening. Too many years of limbo had passed under the curse; now she was untethered, lines cast off from the dock, and she was Wendy again, ready to chart her own course. And, damn it all, this time she was going to do things differently. Picking up JM, she started to make plans.

_In the past two days, he’d watched as all his plans had fallen to the wayside.  His partners were following their own vendettas, and it was only a matter of time before they turned on him, if they hadn’t already. Rumplestiltskin … Gold … was acting strangely; he was enamored with that dark-haired beauty, the one Wendy was getting friendly with, placing both women squarely in the line of fire between him and Gold. He didn’t hurt women. That was non-negotiable._

_The problem was that Gold seemed to have changed; he’d helped Charming just yesterday, calming Regina when she’d flown into a rage over something. And Gold gave the boy … Henry … something for free. No charge. No promises. Add in his feelings about seeing Wendy again, and Killian wasn’t sure of much anymore. He was certain that Cora and George were the villains of the piece … that Gold had killed Milah … and that he wasn’t the forgiving kind of pirate. No, he wasn’t the hero type, that’s for sure._

_Odds were that his time was up for hiding. Cora would be sure that Gold knew he was in town, without doubt._

“What the hell are you doing here?” was the first thing he demanded when he saw her. Wendy had been expecting a cold reception; after all, no one was supposed to know his hiding place, but it was hard not to notice flickering lights in a boat that belonged to snowbird owners. Of course, few people wintered in their boats, but Wendy did. That was why she knew he was there, why she’d had dinner on the deck before the weather turned, grading papers with her glass of wine where he could see her.

“I brought you some new clothes. You need a coat and some heavier things. And I brought dinner. I’m hungry and was in the mood for Italian food.” She calmly kept unpacking bags, laying new jeans, shirts, a heavy cable-knit sweater, and a dark pea coat over the back of the couch. Take out containers were already spread out on the kitchen counter.

“No.” He was angry, she could tell by the flash in his blue eyes and the sharpness of his tone. “The point of hiding is that no one knows where I am. You are not my mother, Wendy. This is dangerous business, and I’ve been perfectly clear that I want you to stay out of it.”

“I’m glad you know that because I certainly have no motherly feelings towards you.” The edges of her mouth curled up in a sexy smile as she thought about exactly how she did feel about this infuriating man. “In fact, I’m feeling very much like taking right now. I learned how to plunder from the best, you know.”

“Curse it all, Wendy. I can’t give you what you want. You know that.”  JM scrabbled out from under the counter where he’d been playing with Wendy’s scarf that dangled from a stool; he jumped on Killian’s leg, demanding attention. Without even thinking about it, he caught the little dog, hooking under the brand new leather collar, lifting the wiggling body up to his face. “No jumping, young man.” He slipped his hand under the wagging tail as the dog tried to lick his face, giving a little yip of excitement. “And of course, you’d find the most fearless pup who doesn’t have the sense to be afraid of me. Just like you.” He voice was crisp, but he lost the battle to keep his face passive, shaking his head slightly as he smiled at the ball of fur.

“Here,” Wendy took JM and carried him over to the door to the pantry, tipping him into the space she’d lined with newspapers. “He’s a handful that sure. But, fortunately, I have experience at handling headstrong men.” She stopped at the shelves that separated the living area from the sleeping part of the one room cabin. “This is a small town; you can’t stay hidden for much longer. And too many people know who I am to not make the connection.” Her tunic-length black sweater came over her head easily, and his eyes widened at the corset she wore beneath it, striped leather with silver buckles down the front. “I have no illusions about what this is, Killian. And what we can and can’t have.”

“You are still a head-strong, reckless, unmanageable piece of baggage, aren’t you?” he breathed, captured by her movements as she unbuttoned the long, slim red wool skirt and let it collapse into a pile on the floor, stepping out of it and kicking it aside. She stood in her thigh high black leather boots with thin heels, wearing nothing but the corset and a tiny pair of black lace underwear, letting him look his fill. In a husky voice, he said, “That’s not playing fair, Wendy love.”

Walking to him, swaying her hips as she went, she caught his belt and tugged him towards her. “Pirate.”

He chuckled, hand sliding down the back of the tight leather to clasp the smooth skin beneath, squeezing lightly. “You know I’ll take what you offer. I’m no hero.”

“I wouldn’t want you half as much if you were.” And wasn’t that the honest truth, she thought. “I’ll take what I can get and be content. I don’t want to change you, Killian. I want you just as you are.” She caught his face with her hands, fingers in his hair, thumbs along the scruff of his jaw, leaning in for a kiss, grazing his lips with hers, intending to kiss him until he was so far gone with need that he’d beg her for mercy. But he had other plans, and he took control, picking her up with ease and tossing her on the bed. She tried to scramble back towards the headboard, thinking she knew what he wanted, but he circled one leather encased ankle and dragged her back to the edge, spreading her legs as he caught the small strip of lace between her legs with his hook. The touch of the cool metal against the hottest part of her sent shivers of anticipation shooting up to her nipples, which hardened instantly, and the jolts got more electric with each rub of metal against her clit.

“Be careful what you wish for.” He rested his knee on the bed and leaned his face down to hers. “I may just give it to you.” The edge of hardness in his eyes excited her in a way she’d never felt before, and she could only moan in response as he rubbed harder.

“I’m a big girl,” she managed to whisper. “I’ll take whatever you can give.”

“Wendy.” He rested his forehead against hers for just a second, eyes closed, hook stilled, overwhelmed. Lifting one leg, she brought her knee against his crotch, rubbing leather to jeans, wiggling her hips.

“Killian.” Hand on his waist, another in his hair, she raised his head and waited for him to open eyes. “If you stop now, I’m going to be very upset. Very. I just might have to punish you for it.”

“You have a smart mouth.” The doubt fled from his face. “A very smart, very sexy mouth.”  And he proceeded to kiss that mouth, leaving her breathless and wanting in seconds. “And you are certainly welcome to try, but I have much more experience when it comes to that kind of play, love.” Material gave as he tugged sharply on the lace, ripping it off. “Would you like a lesson?”

Just the words alone made her almost come right then; she stared, wide-eyed, the promise of pleasure in the lazy circles of his fingers on her cheek. “Oh, yes. Please.”

He left her then, with a command to not move, and she waited, spread out on the bed, hands fluttering to her waist to worry the buckles as anticipation coursed through her body. Her scarf in hand, he came back and caught her wrists, tying them up quickly with sailor’s knots; the headboard was solid, so he pulled her up and led her back into the kitchen area, looping the scarf around one of the latches on the shelves.  There was enough length for her to sit on the couch, and she moaned as his hand stroked the side of her face again, and then covered her mouth with his fingers.

“Rule one. No words. Sounds, yes. Scream if you want. But not a word. Understand?”

She nodded and bit on her lip to keep from asking what he was doing as he wandered over to the kitchen and began prying open lid of containers. He sniffed, dipping his finger in marinara sauce to taste, nodding his approval. Then he wandered over to the clothes, taking his time as he looked through them, taking out the sweater and holding it up.

“Blue? I tend to go for basic black, love. You think it will suit?” His eyes danced as she almost answered him, stopping herself at the last minute; conflicting emotions tumbled through her, frustration at his delay and something hotter, wetness growing as she shifted her hips at the need that was building. “Oh, now, don’t give me that look. I’m going to give you what you need; I’m thinking of bending you over that chair and taking you hard and fast. Would you like that?”

The sound partially escaped before she choked it off, nodding her head instead. With a laugh, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt, sliding it out of the loops. A fission of fear caused her to gasp.

“Don’t worry; you’re not ready for that yet.” He tossed it aside, jeans riding low on his hips as he knelt on the floor before her. “You only think you’re ready for this.” The kiss was demanding and not at all gentle; he hadn’t forgotten his earlier anger at her being here, being so stubborn, and being half-mad in love with him. She was sure he knew; no matter what she said or how she pretended, he was smart  enough to realize that she wanted him, only him, had only ever been with him.

When his hand delved into the top of the corset to tease her already hard nipple, she groaned and arched into his hand, pressing her thigh closed against his legs, and he chuckled. “You’re ready, aren’t you?” At her nod, he untied her wrists and pulled her up and over to the small chair. “Put your hands on the seat, love, and hold on.” He bent her forward, spreading her feet out until she was completely open to him, shaking a little as she tried to look behind her, to see him unzip his jeans and free himself.  When his eyes caught hers, he gave a wicked grin. “Mirror next time, eh? You want to watch, Wendy?” A spike of heat slammed into her gut, and she rocked back towards him, such an erotic image pushing her close to the edge. “I do think I could make you shatter with just words. Shall we test that theory?” Hand and hook caressed the leather of her boots, down to her knees and back. “Were you thinking of me when you bought these? Getting all wet when you tried them on in the store? Did you almost come the first time you wore them at home?” His fingers tugged at the bottom of her corset tracking the laces up her back. “You had to order this. Special made, just for fucking me. Because we both know there’s never been anyone else, has there Wendy? Just me.” The sound that broke from her was almost a sob, but he didn’t stop. “You had these on under your school clothes today. Schoolteacher Wendy with her kids, walking around in front of them in black lace underwear, completely soaked at the thought of what you were going to do, how you were going to find me, and how I’m going to make you scream.” The tension built, muscles quivered and her arms gave way until she was resting her head on the seat of the chair. “I always make you wet, Wendy. Shatter you to bits. First time I met you, you were just a child with no sense of this,” hand caressed her bare thigh “of what it means. Now you do. And you want it. Want me inside you, to make you whole.”

She cried out as she came, world going grey as she could feel the ripples of ecstasy that roared through her; tremors racked her body and she knew she called his name, begging form him, rocking back as she sobbed. Then he was there, filling her to her very core in hard thrusts, creating even more ripples as the orgasm crested a second time, quickly, shocking her with its intensity.  His arm circled her waist and lifted her up, whispering her name in her ear during the last straining plunges of his own climax.

“That was not punishment,” he said when he caught his breath.

“I know. You went easy on me.”

He let her go, pulling out of her body and she heaved a sigh of regret as he left her. “And just how does a schoolteacher know about kinky sex anyway?” He nipped her ear.

“I read. And watch movies.” She primly informed him. “Books are very educational. Always thought spanking sounded interesting.” He pulled his jeans up from the floor.

“Spanking?” The look of surprise warred with a flare of arousal. “Indeed. Will you wear that outfit while you do it?”

“I even know where to order a riding crop, if you’re interested.” And that got both eyebrows raised in what might have been shock. He simply stood watching her; she had no intentions of changing or covering up.

“You are not going to give up on this are you?” By this, she knew he meant ‘on me.’

“No. I am one stubborn pirate, you know. I do what I want, Killian.” She picked up the bottle of wine she’d brought with her. “Now, I’m hungry. Dinner, then a shower, then we’ll see how that blue sweater looks on you.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things must come to an end ... and have a new beginning. In the fairytale world, Wendy sets out on a new adventure, while in Storybrooke, Killian makes a decision.

AT SEA – Then

Killian climbed into the crow’s nest, dropping lightly into the basket; only a gentle breeze stirred the sails as the stars glittered in the cloudless night sky, a waning moon casting enough light to see Wendy, on her knees, head resting on her crossed arms. She’d given up on the beleaguered dress – cloth can only take so much abuse before it begins to wear thin – and now wore pants and a long silk shirt, one of his, a much more comfortable ensemble for the ship.

“Enjoying the view?” He leaned against the mast, balancing as the motion of the ship rolled through the basket.  Wendy didn’t turn, and Killian could sense her unease.

“We’ll be in port tomorrow,” she began, talking more to the night than to him. “You still haven’t told me how I’m going to get back to London.”  She sighed. “And I’m not really sure I want to go back at all. Once a pirate, well, how am I supposed to be a lady again?”

He sank down beside her, back against the wooden side of the basket, long legs folded up into a vee; he could see her profile, eyes lost in thought.  Beneath them, the ship was quiet as they rode out the night, men in their bunks, just Smee at the wheel, hidden behind the sails.

“You decide what you want to be, love. And damn the consequences.”  He wasn’t really good at this talking thing that women seemed to like so much. “It’s a question of regret.  No regret, that’s the pirate creed, just revenge.”  That got a tilt at the corner of her mouth. “You are fearless Wendy. Remember that and everything else will work itself out.”

Uncrossing her arms, she reached a hand and tentatively stroked his jaw, fingers running over the scruff of days at sea. “I shall tell her that, and she will be severely disappointed in me. Father will not even notice unless someone at work mentions my fallen state. Then he will tell Mother to deal with me.”

With a sly smile, he caught her hand and dropped a kiss onto her knuckles. “Ah, Milady, falling is not the worst thing you could do. If you hadn’t fallen into Mermaid Lagoon, I wouldn’t have caught you.”

“But you threw me into the ocean,” she argued.

“True, but I jumped in after you … and that didn’t turn out all that bad now did it?” He gave her a knowing grin, remembering their lovemaking and her skin against his. With a light pull, he brought her closer, capturing her face with his hand; the kiss came softly, lips brushing then parting, breaths mingling. In the darkness, tomorrow was more than just a sunrise away; time was endless, and he could forget the angers of the past, the parting that was looming with the morn. What he wanted was to take his time, touch every inch of her skin, linger in a way that only lovers did, putting off the inevitable.

Without speaking, he began to undress her, pulling the silk shirt over her head, leaving her skin white and luminous under the sliver of moonlight. Settling on her heels, she moved to cover herself, no pixie dust to remove inhibitions, but he shook his head and pushed her arms away, baring her to his gaze.  With deliberate slowness, he ran his hand up from her waist until he cupped on breast, holding the full globe in his palm and dragging his thumb across the nipple, watching her eyes drift closed in pleasure.  He trailed kisses down the side of her neck, along the muscle that ran down to her shoulder, into the dip of her collar bone,  and then over to the other side, catching little bites of skin as he went, tickling her with his beard.  He teased his way to the rosy aureole before the nipped it lightly, a graze of teeth that made her whisper his name; catching the laces of her pants, with his hook, he tugged them loose, hand dipping along the curve of her back and down to cup her ass, pulling her forward so his mouth could take more of her breast.

Her hands fumbled with his buckle, so he helped her, slowly peeling off each piece of their clothing: pants, shirt, even their shoes, Wendy laughing at their contortions in the small space. Then he stood up, raising her up with him, turning her out to face the night, circling his arms around her waist from behind. Fitting his body to hers, he brought his lips down to her ear.

“Hold on. I won’t let you fall.” His hand slipped between her legs, finding her already wet clit, stroking slowly; he could fell her breath hitch with each movement.

“It’s too late for that,” she said, quietly, and he knew it was the truth. Try as he might to talk logic to himself, he knew she was already in his heart for good.

“Then we’ll fall together.” Rubbing his aching erection against her, he teased her nipples with the side of his hook, pinching her wet clit with his fingers to make her gasp, arching her back until her head lay on his chest. Mouth captured hers, tongue invading, brushing over her teeth; fingers eased inside, first one, then a second as she began to move with him, a dance of bodies, slipping together and sliding apart. His own need came second to hers, bringing her to the very edge, then leaving her hanging there as he bent them both forward; her hands came down on the wooden rail, and she pressed back into his groin. Kissing down her spine, he murmured words of endearment, playing with her name, calling her fearless and beautiful and strong and amazing, all the things she was.

He rubbed the head of his cock against her, and she begged then, with words and with her body;  he entered her, little by little, holding back his desire to surge into her sweet heat, determined that they come together. Once he was seated deep in her tightness, he eased back out; Wendy moaned, catching her lip with her teeth, rocking her hips back. As he built them up, driving the rising tension in their bodies, he increased the speed of his thrusts; she met him halfway, anticipating the coming storm of her climax. Just as he knew he was ready, heat uncoiling in his gut, muscles tensing, his fingers found her wetness again, and with rough strokes he brought her with him, both tumbling together into a blaze of passion that roared through them. She shuddered around him, clenching her muscles as he pulled out, shooting pearly liquid onto the smooth skin of her back.  Scooping her up, he leaned them both back onto the mast, settling her between his legs; his fingers idly stroked her hair, burying his nose into the scent of her.  

“And I shall miss that,” Wendy breathed.

“Aye, love. As shall I, as shall I.” Killian chuckled as he kissed her hair. “Yet here’s the truth of it all. We can fall all we like, but I am still a pirate with enemies who would kill without a thought. And you are Wendy Darling, with a future that doesn’t include dying at the hands of a siren or an angry pixie … or worse.”  He meant it all. She deserved more than he could ever give her; if there was one lesson he’d learned well, it was that love didn’t conquer all.

“I love you, Killian.”

“Wendy, love, I can’t …”

“I know.”  She tilted her face up to him. “I just needed to say it before …” He kissed her then, a graze of lips that stopped her – but he couldn’t deny the emotion in the touch, speaking without words in a way that left no doubt to his answer.

“We can watch the sunrise from here.” He offered, loathe to end the moment.

“I suppose we should put on our clothes.”

He turned her in his arms and cradled her tight against him, burying his nose in her hair. “Later, love. There will be time for that later.”

ON LAND -- then

Smee pulled the small boat up on the beach of the cove, offering his hand to Wendy to help her step out.  Lightly jumping over the edge, Wendy slung her pack over one shoulder and adjusted her cloak.

“Now, remember what the Captain told you. This man only cares about money; don’t pay him until he gets you the pendant, all right? Keep your head down, and avoid the docks. No one should know how you got here, and, especially, don’t mention the Captain’s name.” Smee shifted nervously, eyes darting around the area, searching for any watchers.

“I know, Smee. He told me three times, and you’ve told me four more. I’ll be fine.” The path that wound up the cliff face switched back multiple times, heading towards the nearest town.

“I know,” Smee hung his head, embarrassed to be repeating himself, half in awe … or maybe just mostly in love with her. “It’s just … well … you’re important to us all, and we don’t want nothing to happen to you. He’s already a bear to live with now; I wouldn’t want to deal with him if you ….”

“Don’t worry.” She said, as much to reassure herself as the first mate. “You can go back to chasing Peter and the other boys now.”  Resolute, she turned to the path.

“Miss Wendy?” She paused and looked at Smee. “He’s just not capable of love. Not anymore.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute. One day, he’ll realize it too.”  And with that, she headed off in search of her next adventure.

STORYBROOKE – now

“They’re completely adorable,” Ruby said as she looked at pictures of the puppies. “I’d take the other one if I could, but I don’t think that would work out well.” Her rueful smile was evidence of the regret she felt. Wendy patted the woman’s hand reassuringly.

“The last pup already has a home,” Belle said from her seat beside Ruby. “Charming took Henry to work at the rescue shelter and the boy just fell in love.”

“Oh, that’s a perfect place for the little guy.” Wendy was happy to hear all her lost little dogs had found happy homes with people who loved them; puppies, kids, lost souls – all of them brought out the warrior in her. “With everything that’s happened, Henry needs a puppy to love.”

The diner wasn’t too busy; Thursday was half-price drinks at the Rock-n-Bowl, so lots of people went for deep dish pizza there instead of burgers. Still, half the booths were full and a couple tables as the three women sat in the end booth, Ruby and Belle facing Wendy across the table, discussing their plans for the evening. Granny had given Ruby Thursdays off for girls’ night; the group might change week-to-week, but they always managed to find something to do to help forget the troubles of the day. Wendy ran a fry through the ketchup – fries were required for making decisions, she thought – and ate it slowly, savoring the salty taste.  .

“Oh, hello, who the hell is that?” Ruby purred, looking towards the door which had opened with a jingle of bells. “Is it too early to call dibs? Emma can’t have every good looking single man in town.” 

Belle’s eyes widened. “I think Wendy might want to look before she signs away her chances. He is quite, um, what’s a good word in this world?”

“Yummy.” Ruby offered. “Hot. Sexy. Good enough to eat.” 

Wendy turned slightly and he came into view; snug jeans, blue sweater that set off his eyes … he’d cleaned up his stubble, leaving just a five o’clock shadow.  Her heart jumped as he looked around the diner, checking the exits, the patrons, finally settling on their table.  Struggling to keep her emotions off her face, she refused to look him in the eye, dropping her gaze; he changed course and headed towards them.

“Ladies,” he nodded and gave a slight bow. “And Wendy Darling. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Reaching his hand out, he took Ruby’s and kissed it lightly on the knuckles, the epitome of charm; then he followed with Belle, but didn’t take Wendy’s.

“Wendy?” Ruby asked, and a look of concern clouded her eyes as she gazed at her friend.

Taking a deep breath, Wendy introduced them. “Belle, Ruby, this is Killian Jones. Killian, my friends, Ruby and Belle.”

“A genuine pleasure, ladies.” He shifted as he spoke, and Ruby caught the glint of the hook, her eyes narrowing.

“Hook.” It was more of an accusation than a name, the way Ruby uttered it. Her whole posture changed, tense and on guard.

“In a past life, yes. But a man is capable of change, is he not?” His smile was disarming, and Wendy felt it all the way down to the lacy white underwear she’d put on beneath her sensible skirt and sweater. What she couldn’t figure out was why he was here, basically proclaiming his presence to the whole town. It would only be a matter of hours before Gold knew about it.  “I was hoping to find some supper, but I’m not sure what to eat in this brave new world. Any suggestions?”

“Oh, yes, try a hamburger. They are delicious,” Belle said, enthusiastically. “And fries. With ketchup.” She took one from the basket on the table to prove her point.

Wendy avoided Ruby’s look, giving Killian a friendly smile. “Yes, the burgers are good here.” Heat washed over her as he scanned down her body, noting the black boots that peeped from under the long skirt; her skin flushed immediately when he rested his hand on the booth, just beside her scarf, the same one that he’d tied around her wrists before he’d ….

“Well, fancy meeting you here.”

All warmth fled from her as she turned to see Mr. Gold standing in the diner doorway, a squirming puppy in one hand. His suit was mussed under the dog’s paws, but he still looked every inch the powerful man he was. Ice could have formed on the windows from the stare that lengthened between the two men; Wendy could see Killian’s hand clench slightly, but outwardly he remained calm.

“Good evening, ladies. Chip and I were just out for a quick walk – well, I’m walking and he’s being carried mostly – and imagine my surprise to see the infamous Captain Hook standing right here in Storybrooke. Come to pillage the town? Or just steal someone’s wife?”  Gold’s voice was as sharp and pointed as Hook’s sword, fileting with words.

“Rumple,” Belle slid out of the vinyl seat and walked to the man, taking the puppy from him. “The diner is no place for the pup.” Her tone of voice was clear to everyone; the diner was no place for a confrontation either.

“Belle, love, don’t you and your friends have plans for the evening?” The dismissal was obvious, but Belle put a hand on her hip and glared at the older man. “Perhaps you ought to go on and let me handle this. I imagine Ms. Davies would isn’t particularly happy about this turn of events.”

All eyes turned to her, and Wendy saw the different reactions of them: Ruby putting together the pieces, Belle unsure of the situation, Mr. Gold calculating and assessing her reaction …. and Killian with that wicked grin that stirred her every instinct. He was up to something, of that she was certain.

“Actually, I am happy to see the Captain. If he survived the curse, then my brothers might be all right as well. I’d love to hear anything he can tell me about them.” She stood, putting herself between the two, standing alongside of Belle. Gold gave each of the women a searching look; his face softened as he settled on Belle and the puppy.

“I, too, would love to hear how you found your way here to Storybrooke,” Gold said. “Perhaps I can buy you diner?” That, Wendy thought, was a scary smile, all teeth and promise of danger.

“Oh, that’s a lovely idea!” Belle exclaimed. “I love a good story. Ruby, can I put Chip in the office?” Ruby nodded as she rose and pulled out chairs at a bigger table, shifting the basket of fries over. Reluctantly, Gold accepted the inevitable and walked around to take a seat.                   

“What are you doing?” Wendy asked quietly. Killian glanced over at Gold, who was watching them intently, filing away how Killian’s hand brushed her shoulder, how Ruby watched them both, worry evident on her face.

“Exactly what you told me to do, love,” he whispered back. “He knew anyway.”  Sliding out a chair at the head of the table, he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “There are bigger predators in the waters than crocodiles. A storm is coming, Wendy. Time to stay below decks or lash yourself to the mast if you want to survive to see the sunrise.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, not exactly an end ... there's an epilogue coming ... but this is the end of this part of the story. There's a lot more to tell ... :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Storybrooke, Killian has a proposition while in FairyTale Land, Wendy finds herself caught up in the beginning of a new adventure.

STORYBROOKE – now

He was by her boat when she got home from school; she was juggling grocery bags, school tote, the retractable leash that jerked as JM tried to wrap himself around her legs, and her new pocketbook with room for a couple books and all her stuff. She’d have said he was patiently waiting, but she knew patience wasn’t something he executed well; more likely, he was planning or watching or getting ready to attack. None of that mattered to JM, who darted forward to sniff his boots then put his front paws on Killian’s leg and bark hello.

“You should have named him Scamp,” Killian said as he bent to scoop up the puppy. “Not much of a guard dog, is he?” JM proceeded to try and lick Killian’s face; when he used his Hook to push the pup back, the dog clamped his teeth onto the metal and began to play tug.

“JM!” Wendy said in a stern voice – establish who is alpha, the training book had said – but she spoiled it with a smile at the sight. Setting her bags down onto the bench in the boat, she took the dog, pulling teeth free. “I’d ask what you think you’re up to and why you’re here, but I imagine you’ll only tell me what you want to anyway.” She climbed onboard; he waited until she nodded assent before he followed her into the cabin, picking up some of the bags as he went. JM ran for his toy box and dragged out a braided colorful rope, sinking his teeth into one end and shaking it violently.

“I’m here to court you, of course.”

She stopped, eggs in one hand and the other on the handle of the small refrigerator, astonished by the statement. “Excuse me?”

“Everyone knows about our common past with a certain stubborn boy. The easiest way to protect you is to make people think I’m romancing you to get back at Peter.” Damn, but he was so cocky and sure of himself. And she liked that, liked it a lot.

“So, people believe I’m dumb enough to fall for your line of bullshit?” That wasn’t a very flattering view of herself; Wendy liked to believe she was smarter than that. The thought made her angry, and she slammed the door shut after she’d put the eggs away.

“They see what they want to see, what’s on the outside.” He caught her hem of her sweater with his hook, a lovely emerald green cardigan, and tugged it up a little, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Little do they know what’s underneath.”

She swatted his hook away. “And how does dating me hurt Peter? He’s not even here.”

“He wasn’t in Neverland when the curse hit, so how do you know he’s not in this world somewhere? Do you know everyone in StoryBrooke?” He helped himself to a beer from the fridge, already making himself at home. “Besides, I’m a pirate. We steal women from our enemies all the time, right?” The darkness passed through, blue eyes growing shadowy before he shook it off.

“You didn’t steal me; I got on that ship of my own free will.”

“I know that. That’s why I’m telling you the plan. If we’re both onboard with it, we can sell it to the hilt.” He sat on the stool at the bar, reaching down to take the end of the braided rope JM was attacking, yanking it away then letting the dog catch it again.

“And if one of your enemies approaches me? You know they may try to turn me against you – tell me you’re a villain and think I’ll help them get to you. Isn’t that putting me in the middle of all this?” Wendy asked. “I thought that was the whole reason no one could know in the first place.”

“That ship has left the harbor, Wendy. You’re in this, have been from the minute you stepped foot on this boat. Time to use that to our advantage.”  He gave her a wolfish smile. “I’m a bad guy, remember? I’ll use anyone to get what I want.”

She came around, took the rope and threw it, JM scampering after it, Leaned into him, she braced her hands on the counter. “Is it using me if I agree to it? Because the way I see it, the two of us are in this together. Storybrooke is my home, and if people I care about are in danger, I’m going to do whatever I can to help them.”

“Ah, there’s the fearless Wendy I love.” His hand slipped under the hem of her sweater to rest on the bare skin just about her skirt’s waistband. “But make no mistake; Regina might be an evil queen, but she’s got nothing on her mother. Cora is much worse. I’ll do what I can to protect you, but this isn’t an angry pixie or even a rabid mermaid we’re dealing with.”

“There are people here who will help us,” she let her fingers tangle into his dark hair.

“One step at a time, love,” he pulled her between his legs, snuggling her body to his, hook on the small of her back. “Let’s start with just us for a bit, shall we?” The first kiss was a slow brush of lips, a promise of more to come.

“I see your ulterior motive, Killian Jones. There’s a phrase in this world – you want to have your cake and eat it too.” She couldn’t help but melt against him, lips parting in invitation for more.

“I don’t know about cake, sweetheart, but I certainly wouldn’t mind a regular diet of you.”  His hand found the lacy fabric of her bra. “And don’t tell me you’d be against the idea.”

Breathing in as his fingers cupped her, she smiled at him. “I’m not that good of a liar, Captain.”

As it turned out, the groceries and papers to grade had to wait.

DEVONSHIRE PORT (FAIRYTALE WORLD) – then

She ordered a drink at the bar; in a rough place like this, she was certain to find overpriced, ale flavored water and that was fine with her. At least she looked less conspicuous in her pirate outfit, leather pants, silk shirt, wide belt, knife secured and easy to see.

“I’m meeting someone,” she told the grizzled bartender when he brought her mug. “A hunter by trade, not from around here. We’ve got business.” Killian had told her exactly what to say and what not to say, and she stuck to the script.

“Over there,” the man nodded to the small alcove by the fireplace. “But looks like you’ll have to get in line.”

The man was just as Killian had described him, but his youth surprised her. She’d expected someone older, what with his ruthless reputation. Dirty brown hair peeped out from under his battered black hat; leather coat looked weathered and only partially concealed the assortment of weapons underneath. It was in his icy blue eyes that Wendy could see the hardness she’d been warned about; like pieces of topaz, they coolly surveyed the two women seated across from him.

Wendy picked up her mug and started across the room; it didn’t matter to her who these women were, she just needed a minute of his time.  Hiding beneath their hoods, one white, the other red, the women were trying to avoid being recognized, backs to the room, bodies hunched to avoid any unwanted attention. He looked up as she approached, and she saw something stirring in the depths of his gaze, quickly disappearing back into frosty regard.

“I believe we have a transaction to conclude,” Wendy pulled up a chair to the edge of the table.

“Wendy Darling, I presume.” He leaned forward, examining her from head to toe, and she felt a moment of fear as he took her measure, a quick uptick at the corner of his lips letting her know he saw it too. “I’m afraid we have a slight issue. Seems I’ve misplaced the item at the moment and will have to find it again.”

“That’s your problem. We had a deal. I suggest you find it post haste.” She’d been warned about this too, the hard sell to renegotiate price. “I know you’ll honor your word.”

“Post haste?” An amused smile threatened to emerge, but he kept it in check. “Well, it does happen that these lovely ladies have just presented me with another proposition that will put me in the right place to recover your merchandise. I imagine we can work this out.” He nodded to the others. “Assuming it’s alright with you if I consolidate?”

The dark haired woman looked at the brunette in the red hood then spoke for both. “As long as you kill this monster and get what we need, I have no problem with it.”

The door to the inn burst open and palace guards spilled in, heading right for them; the bartender ducked behind the bar and patrons scattered. Wendy jumped up and put her back to the wall; Killian certainly hadn’t prepared her for something like this, but he’d said to stick close until she got what she’d come for.

“Well, ladies, looks like that’s our call to leave,” the man said, drawing a thin rapier sword; Wendy got a glimpse of what looked suspiciously like a brocade waistcoat and a silver watch fob before the guards charged them.  White Hood grabbed a chair and smashed it over the nearest attacker, and Red Hood punched another when he tried to grab her. Ducking through the tables, they beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen door and out the back; sounds of breaking wood and bodily punches came from inside as the patrons took exception to the disruption of their meals, delaying the pursuit, leaving them time to throw saddles on their horses.

“Well, Wendy, looks like you have to make a quick decision.” He offered her a hand up to ride pillion. “If you want what you’ve paid for, you’ll have to come with us.” Without hesitation, she swung up behind him.

“You’ve only been paid half.”  She put on a brave face; she was, after all, fearless. “Although I’d like to know where we’re going and who I’m with.”

“That would be Snow White, the one the guards are so very anxious to meet, and her friend, Rose Red. I’m Abraham Van Helsing, but you can call me Van. Seems we’re off to kill one very powerful vampire – the monster that has your amulet.”

Wendy had little time to digest that piece of information as he spurred his horse, racing out of the inn yard just as more guards appeared over the crest of the road. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I figure if they can have Victor Frankenstein, then any classic Victorian horror is up for grabs, right? Plus, I think it very fitting if Red finds herself dealing with one of the greatest monster hunters of all time.
> 
> My description of Van owe much to the British actor James Murray, who would be a lovely addition to OUAT.
> 
> Obviously, this story is to be continued. Watch for part 2 coming soon.


End file.
